Of Love and Punk Rock
by BadWolfBabe
Summary: Shea may have been the last person on the planet to know who Rodrick Heffley was. (I mean, didn't you see the YouTube video of him crooning "Baby" at Heather Hills' Sweet 16? How embarrassing.) She knew she should run in the other direction, but something about his IDGAF attitude and stupid cute face made her want to stick around. Bad idea?
1. Ready to Fall

Chapter One: Ready to Fall

Westmore High parties were all the same: dozens of punk rock students, who laughed a little too loudly after they ingested one shot, were stuffed like sardines inside a suburban-wonderland type of house. The host of the party hadn't had the forethought to take down the embarrassing, JC Penney quality photos of his family that lined the walls, and decorations that his mother had clearly spent hours organizing were suddenly covered in chip crumbs and red solo cups.

Shea did not like the party scene. More specifically, she didn't like the people that came to parties like this. They drank too much beer, danced too wildly, and tried too hard to get her number after she explicitly said no. Normally, Shea would have passed on a party like this, and opted for a movie night with her best friend Priya. But Ben had invited them, and Ben had party intuition: he always knew when a good one was brewing. Plus, Shea couldn't say no to an old friend.

"I'm having a hard time finding the liquor," Sam told Shea, his eyes wide with horror. He had been searching the house for about ten minutes, which, in party years, was closer to two hours.

"No kidding," Shea said, and picked up a nearby framed photo of three boys, dressed in fresh pressed suits and fake smiles. "We're in suburban hell."

"It's probably non-alcoholic beer," Priya said, nodding to a group of boys holding full cups. "Their drunkenness is psychosomatic."

"Bless you," Sam joked, and the three of them laughed.

Priya was the smartest and prettiest, Shea thought, of all her friends. She had soft caramel skin and long dark hair that fell in waterfalls past her shoulders. She also had a great, non-judgmental, punk rock attitude where she didn't give a fuck that Shea got straight Cs and kissed too many boys. Even though they didn't go to the same high school, Priya and Shea spent all day texting each other—from morning until night. Shea loved Priya more than any person she knew.

Sam was a close second in her life. Shea and Sam met at Plainview High when they were placed in the same block schedule together. Sam spiked his dark, short hair and laughed louder than any person Shea knew. When class got boring, he taught Shea how to speak Filipino. He wasn't much of a project partner, but Sam was a great friend.

"Hey, you made it!" Ben exclaimed, parting a sea of white boys in black t-shirts. Shea spotted his small mohawk and eyebrow ring from across the room. He was hard to miss.

"Too soon, perhaps," Shea said loudly, raising her voice over the sudden clamor that occurred when the group had figured out how to successfully set up Rock Band. "There's no alcohol?"

"Ah, no, it's hidden," Ben clarified, and pointed over his shoulder. "Come on, let me show you."

"It's in fucking Narnia?" Sam asked, confused.

"There are kids running around," Ben explained. As they turned the corner into the hallway, the group ran into the two kids.

"We're not that young!" the gangly boy said. Shea thought if his hair was shaggier, he might look like Harry Potter.

"They're Chirag's friends," Priya whispered in Shea's ear. Chirag was Priya's younger brother. Even though they were entering the eighth grade, Chirag still looked like he was in elementary school. Shea was surprised to see how tall the other boys were in comparison to him.

"Yeah, yeah, what are you, nine?" Ben said dismissively, pushing past the skinny boy and his round friend.

"Thirteen!" the two boys choired. When Ben didn't respond, they disappeared into the living room.

Ben led Shea and the others down the hall, and then turned into the laundry room. On top of the dryer sat a bowl of pink liquid with a stack of red cups next to it.

"Bottoms up!" Ben said.

"Ooh, if I get sick from this…" Priya said warningly.

"It will be worth it," Sam concluded. He grabbed a cup and dunked it into the bowl.

"That's so unsanitary," Priya groaned.

"Alcohol kills germs," Ben said.

"I don't think that's how it works," Priya argued, her tongue sharpening w into a v sound. Even though she was first generation American, her accent mimicked her parents'. "No shots?"

"We couldn't get enough booze," Ben lamented. "This is it."

"Who's hosting this lame ass excuse for a party?" Sam asked, already halfway through his cup.

"Rodrick," Ben said. "That's my boy; don't talk shit."

Sam held his hands up in defense. "Hey man, just asking."

Ben laughed good-naturedly, "S'alright. Good to see you, Shea." He squeezed her shoulder and left the laundry room.

"This explains a lot," Priya muttered, taking out her phone.

"What?" Shea asked.

"Rodrick Heffley," Priya said. She handed her phone to Shea, and a boy with shaggy black hair looked back.

"Whoa, mama," Shea said, flipping through the boy's profile photos.

"What?" Sam said, dipping his cup into the bowl.

Shea was well aware that profile pictures were almost always deceiving. Currently, she had a great black and white, close up photo of her smiling gently and looking down, the camera focused on her one round eye with perfect winged liner. It failed to show the crooked line on her other eye, or the acne that lingered her cheeks, or her never straight septum ring, or her awkward new partial buzz cut on the right side of her head. But Rodrick's photos were almost all the same: candid shots of him laughing or drumming, and his face never changed.

"He's cute," Shea gushed.

Priya snatched her phone back and scrunched up her face. "Don't even think about it."

"I bet you I'll kiss him by the end of the night."

"Shea!" Priya snapped with a smile, so Shea knew she was off the hook. "You can do way better, trust me."

"It's just a kiss," Shea said dismissively. Priya rolled her eyes. "You can tell me that when I agree to marry him. Does he have a girlfriend?"

"No," her friend explained, "but he was pining after Heather Hills all summer. She's this—"

"I know her," Shea cut off her. She couldn't believe a boy like him would like girls like Heather Hills. "We work at the country club together. Sort of. Sometimes she asks for the time on the walkie. I don't know why she asks the office, but she's an idiot."

"She's a nightmare," Priya agreed. "He made a total ass out of himself at her party. Hold on, let me find the video…"

Priya pulled up YouTube and typed in a few keywords. She scrolled the results quickly scanning videos until she found the one. "Aha! Watch."

She pressed play and turned the volume up loud enough so that Shea could hear. Shea saw a poor quality figure, dressed in a band shirt and jeans, throwing his voice to the tune of Justin Bieber's "Baby."

"Oh my god," Shea muttered. "Turn it off. I'm getting second-hand embarrassment."

Priya nodded grimly. "It was bad. He bounces back though. I'm not sure he knew it was embarrassing."

"Good. I like a man with confidence."

Priya rolled her eyes, and followed Shea out of the laundry room. Sam cried, "Wait for me!" and stumbled close behind, barely balancing three nearly full cups.

"I am not taking that," Priya insisted, stopping in the hallway so Sam could readjust.

Shea tentatively took a cup, and pressed the rim to her lips. Cautiously, she tasted the drink: pink lemonade, Sprite, and vodka.

"Ugh, I hate vodka," Shea moaned.

"I'll drink all three," Sam offered.

"No, no," Shea said, and took another sip. "We've all got to make sacrifices in the pursuit of drunkenness."

"Over here!" Ben yelled, catching the trio's attention.

The three friends wandered over to the kitchen counter, where Ben was talking with none other than Rodrick. Rodrick looked exactly as he did in his Facebook photos: same smartass smirk, same black Converse, same Dead Kennedys shirt.

There was something strange about meeting a person you had stalked online moments prior. Shea's mind was still buzzing with the "Baby" video, and with his almost identical profile photos; so much so, it was strange to see Rodrick standing in front of her as an actual person, not an Internet invention. But the real world did him good: he had color in his face, his green eyes, highlighted by smoky black liner, shined, and he was much taller than Shea imagined.

"You can blame this man for the lack of liquor," Ben said, slapping his friend on the back.

"Done," Sam said, finishing off his second cup. He stacked the empty cup beneath the full one, and stuck his hand out to Rodrick. "I'm Sam. This is…"

"Priya," she cut him off. To Sam, she said, "We've had classes together. He knows."

"After one drink, he might not," Ben joked, and Rodrick rolled his eyes. "Anyway, this is my friend I was telling you about: Shea. Shea, Rodrick."

When he looked at her, his eyes widened. He recovered from the momentary display of emotion by saying, a little too coolly, "Hey."

Shea couldn't help herself. "Are you wearing eyeliner?"

Clearly, this was not the introduction Rodrick had imagined. He faltered, and then sputtered, "It's punk rock."

"Sorry, I just, it's a surprise. I'd only seen photos of you like this." Shea turned, and picked up a nearby, large framed photo of a smiling Rodrick in a suit. "Not very punk rock."

He narrowed his eyes. "It's more punk rock than… than… your hair!"

Shea self-consciously touched her buzzed hair. The cut was still very new on her, and she wasn't sure if she loved it or not yet, but she defended it all the same.

"The queen of punk rock herself sports this look," she said, "Avril Lavigne."

Rodrick raised an eyebrow. Priya laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

"It's a joke," Shea said, and Rodrick relaxed. "I'm a master at the art of self-deprecation."

"Self what?" he asked, scrunching his face in confusion.

"Oh my god," Shea said quietly, and turned to Priya. "I am not drunk enough for this."

"Told you," Priya said in a sing-song voice. She wrapped her arm around Sam, and said, "Come on, let's go see what song they're playing."

Priya was the best wing woman. Even though she didn't like Rodrick, she was trying to help Shea get her kiss. This, and other reasons, were why Shea loved Priya so much.

Shea asked, eager to keep the conversation going, "So what were you talking about?"

"Oh, you know, music… Our band," Ben said, looking to Rodrick for direction.

"Yeah. We just got back from a world tour," Rodrick said nonchalantly.

"Does anyone believe that?" Shea posed, which made Ben laugh.

"Well," Rodrick stammered, "You don't know it's not true."

Shea couldn't believe Rodrick would lie so eagerly and so badly. But she wasn't one of those girls who would believe him just to flirt—she would call him out on his crap, and he would deal with it. If not, he wasn't worth kissing.

"I do actually. I've been in touch with Ben all summer." She touched Ben's arm, and he beamed. "Did Heather Hills believe it? Is that why she wanted you to play her party?"

Shea forgot she knew more about Rodrick than she was supposed to know. And that some topics, especially ones that resulted in an embarrassing YouTube video with more than a thousand reviews, should be left unspoken.

Luckily, Rodrick wasn't as sensitive as Shea feared.

"Yeah, actually," he said, smiling. "That's exactly why."

"I have to say, though, that ruining that preppy nightmare's sweet sixteen party was extremely punk rock," Shea said.

Rodrick grinned. Ben exclaimed, "That's what I've been saying!"

"What's your band called again?" Shea asked, glad to see the tension fading.

"Loded Diper!" Rodrick said, a little too proud of the juvenile name.

Shea scrunched her nose. "Ah."

"You should know; you've seen us play," Ben said accusingly.

Shea honestly didn't remember. She felt a little bad. "Oh?"

"Yeah, at The Black Squirrel." Ben mimed guitar playing. "Dark room, 21 and over, you were way drunk before we went on."

"Oh yeah!" Shea laughed. The memory was foggy, but it was there. She remembered the dimmed lights and loud noises, and the way Priya kept nervously checking her shoulder for the bouncer who wasn't quite convinced her fake was real. "You were alright. To be fair though, I had a lot of tequila, so my judgment was definitely off."

"I think everyone did," Rodrick conceded. "Even us. It was a wild show. The bar owner said he loved us but we haven't gotten a call back."

"Did he know you were 16 when he hired you?"

"Seventeen, then," Rodrick said proudly.

"Still not 21."

Rodrick pulled his wallet out from his back pocket, and pulled out his license. He shoved it in Shea's face. Rodrick Smith: Aged 21.

"Wow, that looks so real," Shea said in awe. She took the ID from his hand and flipped it over. "Mine's a piece of shit. How'd you get that?"

"This guy named Bill used to sing for us. He was 35 and had a lot of… connections," Rodrick explained, casting a nervous look at Ben. "He hooked us up."

Shea gave Rodrick his fake back, set her drink on the counter, and reached for her wallet. She kept her fake beneath her actual license, but on more than one occasion had gotten the two confused. She slid it out of its home and handed it to her new friend.

"Shea Linn," Rodrick read aloud. "What's Linn?"

"My middle name," Shea explained.

He flipped it over once, then twice, and shrugged. "It looks alright to me. You don't look 21, though."

"I so do!"

"It's the Avril Lavigne hair," Rodrick teased.

"Says you, eyeliner boy!"

"Whoa!" Ben held his hands up in protest. "This is getting serious. I'm gonna go see what the others are doing out there."

"Okay," Shea and Rodrick both said. Ben gave them a knowing look, and then disappeared into the living room.

It was a strange sensation: even though Ben had barely contributed to the group conversation, the room felt different once he had left. Ben was a safe zone, and now that he was gone it meant Shea had to make conversation with this new boy all on her own. The vodka was beginning to dull her senses, but only barely.

"So," Shea said, racking her brain for things she knew she had in common with Rodrick. Under pressure, nothing came to mind.

"So," he echoed, drumming his fingers on the counter. "Do you play?"

"What?"

"An instrument," he explained haughtily, like he was speaking to a toddler. "Ben said he knew you from a music class."

"Oh yeah, we used to take guitar lessons together," she explained, trying not to react to his tone. She had a hard time telling when he was being sarcastic and when he was being genuine.

"Acoustic or electric?"

"Acoustic," Shea said, rubbing her rough fingertips together. "I still can. But I'm better at singing, so I focus on that."

Rodrick nodded, impressed. "Nice. I can sing too. You know, when I'm trying."

"You mean your performance at the infamous Hills party was not an accurate portrayal of your skill set?"

He rolled his eyes, like the answer was so obvious. "That song wasn't written in my range."

"Sure," Shea teased. "People tell me I sound like Hayley Williams from Paramore. I wish I sounded like Lzzy Hale. She's my queen."

It was Rodrick's turn to poke fun, "I thought Avril was your queen. You stole her look."

Shea scoffed, "I'm sorry, not sure if you heard, but Gerard Way wants his eyeliner back."

He tried to look offended, but he couldn't hide his grin. "He wishes he looked as good as me."

"I bet you have MCR posters in your room."

Rodrick's face reddened. He insisted, "Trust me, I don't."

"You're lying," Shea yelled. "Look at your face."

"It's great, I know," he said, and Shea clapped her hands together and laughed.

Once they recovered, Rodrick asked her, "So, did the septum hurt?"

Shea instinctively touched her ring and straightened it. "No more than my tattoo."

His eyes widened with surprise. "You have a tattoo?"

She lowered the hem of her tank top to expose a colored, traditional swallow. "I got it last year. It hurts going over the bone but I love it. The artist is my brother's friend so I got it pretty cheap, too."

Rodrick paused, and then said, "I have one too."

"Where? Or do I not want to know?"

He pushed up his sleeve and revealed his band's name and logo. The ink was a little too bright, and the lines were a little too crooked to convince Shea, though.

"That is so fake," she accused.

Rodrick dropped his sleeve. "It's not!"

Without thinking, she licked her fingers and rubbed them against his forearm. As she predicted, the ink smeared.

Shea laughed. "Is that sharpie? How long did that take? Did you sanitize it first?"

Rodrick's face reddened. "Shut up."

Shea was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Rodrick. More importantly, she was surprised how much she enjoyed talking to him. Once she had exposed most of his lies, Rodrick relaxed and started to tell the truth. When he was genuine, Shea found that she liked him. He was certainly rough around the edges, but he wasn't unlikable. They wandered onto the subject of school ("Westmore sucks; I hate school. I just wanna make music," Rodrick moaned), and graduation plans ("I don't know if I wanna go to college," Shea agreed when Rodrick dissented, "I have no idea what I want to do with my life."), but somehow always deviated back to music. While Rodrick's grades were anything but stellar ("I'll graduate, but barely," he explained), he was an expert at music and music production. Even though the band name was juvenile, he was passionate about making it big in the punk or metal scene.

"I was really drunk when I heard you guys play. I feel like I should give you a fair shot," Shea said coyly. The vodka had lightened her brain and made her feel like floating. To her surprise and delight, Rodrick didn't shy away from her advances.

"I have a CD up in my room if you want to listen to it," he said eagerly. She couldn't tell if he was excited about showing off his band, or about being alone with her.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, grinning. "Lead the way, Gerard."

Rodrick led Shea into the thick of the party. Someone had turned off Rock Band and turned on Call of Duty. The radio was screaming what sounded like a homemade metal CD at the loudest possible volume. Shea spied Priya and Sam laughing animatedly with Ben. She briefly wondered what they were talking about, but remembered her goal: the kiss. As she turned to follow Rodrick up the stairs, Priya give her a thumbs up. So much for her needing to do better.

On their way up, they passed a maze of hallways and doors. Of course, Shea conceded, maybe the journey wasn't as confusing as the vodka made it seem. Rodrick opened a door at the end of the hallway, and led the way up a small flight of stairs into the attic.

Rodrick's room was decorated with hanging, colorful Christmas lights and band posters. To Shea's delight, My Chemical Romance was hanging above his bed.

Shea pointed and barked a laugh. "Oh my god! Are you even real?"

Rodrick blushed. "Shut up."

While she was laughing, he moved to the computer on the side of the wall, in front of the window. Shea sat on his bed, which was covered in dark blue sheets. Shea was surprised how tidy his room seemed to be. There were random pieces of clothing strewn about the floor, but his bookshelf was mostly neat and there wasn't any food laying around. Shea thought it odd that a guy like Rodrick was neat. But then she wondered how much of it was his mother keeping him under her thumb.

Suddenly, the alcohol made her dizzy, and she lay on her back, her legs dangling off the end. The sounds of the party downstairs were drowned out by a loud, thumping drum beat, followed by crashing of guitar riffs and a screaming male voice. Shea had a hard time distinguishing the words in the garage rock sound, but she was surprised by how much she didn't mind it.

Rodrick crossed the room and lay down next to her, mimicking her position. He asked, a little too eagerly, "Well?"

"Well," Shea said slowly, trying to think of something better than "I'm not disappointed". "It sounds sort of like early blink-182, if they screamed."

Rodrick smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I could probably say your face looked like an asshole and you'd take it as a compliment," Shea joked.

He laughed. "Does it?"

Shea sat up, and he followed suit. Her mind was spinning and the music was loud; it was hard to focus. Shea looked down, and noticed his hand covering hers, and how warm her fingers felt, and how nice it all was, when she remembered he asked her a question.

"No!" she sputtered. She was afraid to move her hand in case he noticed he had accidentally placed it there. She couldn't think. "It doesn't."

Rodrick tightened his grip on her hand, and leaned forward, closing the space between them. His face was so close to her face, the thumping bass filling her ears. She could smell his body wash—an old spice of some kind—and his cheek was touching hers. This was it. This was it. She breathed, excited.

Just as their lips were about to touch, she could have sworn somewhere in her mind she heard his name echoing, "Rodrick! Rodrick!"

But the noise wasn't an echo. The shrill voice was accompanied by a pounding pair of footsteps. Rodrick's brother and his round friend were standing in the doorway, looking horrorstruck. Rodrick pulled away from Shea, his face pale and murderous.

"What?" he snarled.

"The cops are here!" Rodrick's brother squeaked, his eyes wide.

"What?" Shea and Rodrick echoed.

Just like that, Shea didn't feel quite as drunk. They stood and bounded down the stairs as fast as possible. Shea's heart was pounding in her chest and her skin felt cold and clammy. Cops. Of course someone called the cops. The volume in the living room was at one thousand percent and it was well after midnight.

When they got to the front door, they met a young cop who looked irritated at the display of behavior from the party guests, who were currently playing a loud round of Cards Against Humanity.

Shea latched onto Rodrick's arm, and said, her voice dripping with confidence, "Hi, officer, thanks so much for stopping by. We're so sorry this got out of control. We'll take care of this right away."

The officer's eyes turned from frustrated to surprise. "Shea? Shea Baker?"

Shea's heart stopped. At that moment, she suddenly remembered every awful and illegal thing she had ever done. _Well, this is it, _she thought, _I'm going to prison._

"Uh, yeah?" she said instead.

"It's Mikey!" the cop said excitedly, removing his hat. "I was real good friends with your brother! It's been a while, Shea."

Shea had no idea who Mikey the Cop was, but pretended to remember in hopes of him not arresting her. "Oh, of course! Mikey! How could I forget? Bryan talks about you all the time."

Mikey's face lit up. "Yeah, me and Bryan, man. We go way back. I remember you when you were a little thing." He held his hand up to his waist. "This big. How's he like the army?"

"Oh, you know, he likes it," she said vaguely. "He's up at Fort Drum in New York now. Better than the desert in Cali."

"Yeah, he complained about that all the time," Mikey laughed. Shea chuckled weakly. She peeked a glance at Rodrick, who looked petrified. "Anyway, Shea, here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna get in my car and drive around the block. That's ten minutes, alright? I need you to get everyone outta here. If I come back and this party's still going, you know I gotta shut it down and start checking licenses."

"Right, of course," Shea said, her voice cracking from nerves. "We've got it. Don't worry."

Mikey replaced his hat and winked. "See you around, Shea."

"Bye!" she called after him. Once he was at his car, Rodrick slammed the door shut.

"You knew him?" he asked, incredulous.

"No," she laughed nervously. "My brother and him are apparently bros. Worked out for us, though, huh?"

Priya appeared at Shea's side. "What happened? What'd he say?" she asked frantically.

"We've gotta get everyone out. Now," she said urgently.

Shea looked behind her and saw the dining room set. She ran and quickly grabbed a chair, and then darted back to the living room. Slowly, she climbed on top of the chair, steadied herself, and then whistled.

To her surprise and delight, she had most of the room's attention, sans Sam, who was passed out on the couch.

"That was the cops at the door. And if y'all don't leave right now, they're coming back for you," she said seriously. The guests began to look at each other nervously and murmur. "So… it was fun, but get out."

The party didn't need telling twice. They assembled into a large mass and pushed into the foyer, nearly knocking Shea off of the chair. Rodrick held onto her waist to keep her steady; Shea tried to ignore how hot her face became at his touch.

"Damn," Ben said, wandering from the kitchen. "This place cleared out. Was that really the cops?"

"Yeah," Shea said, her voice shaky. She looked down at Rodrick, who was still holding her waist. "You can let go now."

"Oh!" he pulled his hands away like he'd been shocked. His cheeks were red, and his normally confident face softened. "Sorry."

Shea climbed off of the chair, and asked Priya, "Well, should we go?"

Priya grimaced. "I would normally say yes, but…" she gestured to Sam, who was passed out on the couch in the living. "He had six cups of the mystery liquor, and passed out. I wouldn't feel right about taking him home and leaving him alone."

Sam was known for binge drinking at parties, and had done his fair share of passing out. Luckily, his liver knew its limits, and warned him to stop by making him sleep.

"He needs water," Shea said, and Priya murmured in agreement.

The girls headed into the kitchen, which was littered with red cups, crumbs, and trash, and found an empty glass and filled it with water. Shea handed it to Priya, who was best at stirring Sam.

Sam moaned, "What? Leave me alone."

"Drink," Priya insisted.

Sam grudgingly sat up, and took the cup. "I feel like crap."

"Drink," Priya repeated, firmer. "Six cups. All of it. Then we'll go."

Sam whined, but obliged to Priya's wishes. She glanced around the living room, which was in a similar state to the kitchen, and said plainly, "This place is a dump."

"Don't worry about it. We'll get it in the morning," Ben said dismissively. He grinned, and shook Rodrick's shoulder. "A small price to pay for a killer party."

Shea could see Priya's tolerance for the mess quickly dwindling. "We could help clean up now," Shea suggested, "while we wait for Sam to drink."

"Please," Priya nearly begged, "It will give up something to do."

Rodrick sighed. "I'll grab the trash bags."

Rodrick's brother and friend, who had been watching the incident from the stairwell, grinned sheepishly.

"Well, it looks like you guys have the situation under control," his brother said. "I think we'll go upstairs and…"

"Don't even think about it, Greggy," Rodrick cut him off. "You partied, you clean."

Greg and his friend both groaned, pouting, and begrudgingly waited in the living room for garbage bags. Shea was impressed at how well Greg listened to Rodrick; but then again, Rodrick seemed like the kind of person to take control.

The group split up: Rodrick and Ben had the kitchen, Greg and his friend, whom Shea heard was named Rowley, took the hallways, and the girls took the living room. Cleaning was a slow, meticulous task. But Priya was right—it helped to pass the time, and keep an eye on Sam, who alternated between whining about drinking water and falling asleep. Whenever Shea went into the kitchen to refill his cup, she would spy Rodrick watching her. She would smile, and he would quickly look away, caught in the act.

When the party had left, someone had turned off the radio. Shea couldn't stand working in silence, so she hooked up her iPod to the stereo and turned on a playlist of emotional metal songs she called "Moody Metal." She sang along while she cleaned, occasionally garnering a reaction from Ben on the song change. (Either "I love this song!" or "Why do you have this?" Shea didn't mind the music snobbery.) Despite everything that happened all night, she wondered what Rodrick thought of her taste in music. She knew it was stupid to care so much about what a boy, let alone an unfamiliar boy, thought about her choices, but she couldn't help herself.

By the time Sam had finished his fourth cup (which was more than either Shea or Priya thought he would get through), the house was clean: the floors vacuumed, the dishes washed, the photos straightened, and the curtains fixed. Greg and Rowley had disappeared upstairs about a half hour beforehand, leaving their full trash bags in the hallway. It was just past three in the morning, and Moody Metal was just beginning again.

Ben slapped Sam on the back. "How do you feel, bud?"

"Like I need to sleep, but thanks to these two I'll be pissing all night," he pointed a square finger at Shea and Priya.

"Sorry, we should have let your liver melt," Priya snapped, and Sam cringed.

"Whatever, let's just go," he muttered, and headed out the door.

Priya said a quick goodbye to Ben and Rodrick, who waved in response. Shea smiled at the boys, suddenly at a loss for words. While she was cleaning, she imagined a very grand and dramatic goodbye, where Rodrick would coyly sweep her off her feet, and Ben would thank her for saving his friend. When she thought about the vision, she vowed not to drink so much mystery liquor at the next party.

Ben wrapped Shea in a tight hug, pressing her face against his chest. His shirt was drenched in sweat, and the putrid smell stung her nostrils.

"Thanks for coming, dude," he said, finally releasing her.

"Yeah, sure," she said, walking towards the door. The adrenaline from the night had vanished from her body, leaving her feeling tired and uncreative. "Take a shower, alright?"

Ben saluted. Shea's eyes lingered on Rodrick, who seemed stuck in his spot. She knew she needed to say something, but all she could think was, "Just kiss me, Gerard."

"Shea, come on!" Sam hollered, his voice shattering the silent street.

"Okay," Shea said, her confidence wavering, "See you guys."

She stepped out the front door and walked towards Priya's car. The cool air of the night was welcome against Shea's warm skin. It was then that she realized how hot she'd been; she pressed her hand against the back of her neck and found she was sweating. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and tried to push the stress from the night out.

Shea had to admit she was disappointed that Rodrick didn't want to say goodbye, especially after their almost kiss in his attic room. Maybe he was nervous. But she didn't glean that from his personality: the way he boldly lied to impress her, or the way he made fun of her at the same rate she poked fun at him. So Priya didn't think he was boyfriend material—Shea thought they could have meshed together well. But she knew better than to think that he was interested in pursuing anything more than what this night had been. Sure, they could friend each other on Facebook and flirt through private messages, but somehow, she didn't see it going further than that.

She was just about to chalk the night up to a loss when she heard her name, "Shea!"

She turned, and saw Rodrick standing in the doorway. Even though she thought she had control, she felt her heart skip a beat.

"Wait," he called, lowering his voice, "can you come here?"

Sam groaned from the backseat, "Holy shit, make it quick."

"Shush," Shea said, trying not to smile. Sam rolled his eyes and flopped across the backseat.

Shea walked quickly back towards the front door. Rodrick was leaning in the door frame, trying to look calm and collected, but she recognized the fear in his eyes and smile.

"Hey," she breathed.

"Hey," he said, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "Um, I was wondering…"

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if maybe I could call you, and we could hang out maybe next week," he said quickly, the words jumbling together.

Shea grinned; her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Rodrick's eyes lit up. He looked surprised that she had said yes. "Cool."

"Cool," Shea repeated. She paused, and waited for him to say something else. When the silence between them was starting to get awkward, she made her excuses, "Well, I had fun. But, um, I should probably get going…"

Rodrick suddenly loosened up. "Yeah, yeah, totally. Get Sam's drunk ass home."

She chuckled. When Rodrick didn't move forward to hug her, Shea decided to be hold. She stepped into the doorway, placed her hand on Rodrick's shoulder, and pressed her lips against his cheek.

"Thanks," she purred.

Rodrick looked like he'd been electrocuted. He opened his mouth to form words, but couldn't. Shea smirked and waved. He limply held his hand up in a pathetic wave goodbye.

Shea threw herself into the backseat of Priya's car. Sam jumped when she landed, and said, "Who's there?"

The girl laughed; Sam rested his head in Shea's lap and nodded back off to sleep while Priya drove into the night.

"So, how was it?" Priya asked in a sing-song voice. "Did you get your kiss?"

"No, actually," Shea said. "We almost did up in his room. And then his brother and friend ran in and told us about the cops."

"Bummer," Priya said, not sounding bummed at all.

Shea hesitated about telling Priya how she felt about Rodrick. She knew that Priya would judge her. But she couldn't stand keeping secrets from Priya more.

"I actually really like him, Priya," Shea gushed, "he's so funny. And we like the same music. And. I don't know, man."

"Well," she said, choosing her words carefully. "As long as you like him. What did he say when you went to the door?"

"He asked if he could call me." Shea paused, and then a horrible thought occurred to her. "But he doesn't have my number."

"Ben will give it to him."

Priya was probably right. Shea wondered what Rodrick would tell Ben, and what advice Ben would give in return.

"You're right," Shea said.

"I always am."

Shea watched the dark houses pass outside of her window. It was almost 3:30, so most houses were fast asleep: lights off, shades drawn. Both Sam and Shea lived in Plainview, which was a twenty minute drive, so they had some time before they got to Sam's house to drop him off. Shea didn't mind the silence in the drive, though; it helped her clear her mind and try to relax.

Just as Priya pulled up to Sam's house, Shea's phone buzzed. She had a new text from an unknown number.

It read, "hey avril it's gerard."

She couldn't help but smile.

* * *

**A/N: Hello! This is my first time posting for Diary of a Wimpy Kid. I'm aware I've posted in the book section when this is more accurately a movie depiction of the Heffleys, but the book section has more traffic so...**

**I think this can stand alone as a one-shot, but I do have a few more chapters written, if you guys were interested in seeing more! Review and let me know what ya like! :)**


	2. Make A Move

**A/N: Whoa-thank you so much to everyone who read chapter one! Not a lot of you reviewed, but the traffic on the chapter was crazy! That's awesome! You're all awesome. **

**I want to apologize in advance, and let you know that this chapter is reaaaaaally long. Like, about 20 pages in Word. There was no good place to break it up, so... enjoy?**

**P.S. The chapter titles are song names from punk rock bands! I thought it would make a cute little soundtrack for Shea and Rodrick's budding relationship :)**

* * *

Chapter Two: Make A Move

Although Shea had planned on going to sleep as soon as she and Priya settled into her bed, she couldn't help checking her phone for more messages from Rodrick. By 4, it was clear that he had fallen asleep, but Shea's heart kept her awake. Who knew that a lame suburban party would lead to such a strong connection? She knew that going to sleep would mean that, when she woke, she could text him again, but she couldn't stop thinking about his stupid smile, or the way he smelled, or how close their lips were in his bedroom…

Shea blinked, and suddenly it was one in the afternoon, and her bed was empty. She hastily reached for her phone, unplugged it, and checked her messages. She had one from Priya ("You sleep like a rock lol. Love you see you later."), one from Sam ("holy shit i'm aliveee"), and, to her heart's delight, one from Rodrick, which read, "mornin beautiful".

And even though it was so not punk rock, she clutched her blankets with her other hand and squealed.

* * *

After spending Sunday recovering from her minor hangover, Shea had to spend one last week at work at the country club. She made good money during the summer, which she typically blew on concerts, clothes, alcohol, and pizza, and she figured it looked good on her college applications. If she decided to go to college—she still wasn't sure. The last week of work, though, was always the hardest. And now it was two million times harder because she had a cute boy texting her during the day.

Their conversations weren't ever much. "What are you doing? How's TV? How was your nap? I'm listening to that band you told me about…" but it made Shea's chest tighten with excitement when she saw his name flash across her screen. She consumed their conversations with such fervor that her coworker joked about getting her phone surgically attached to her hand. Shea intellectually knew that she should probably back off and play hard to get, but she wasn't into playing games. She knew what she wanted and she wouldn't settle for anything less, especially if it meant Heather Hills only had to breathe in Rodrick's vicinity to get him interested.

On Thursday, Rodrick texted, "this band for hire is playing in the city on friday… wanna go?"

This Band For Hire was Shea's favorite local band; she was surprised Rodrick remembered such a minor detail about her life. She had heard they were playing shows soon, but knew that they almost always played venues with big bars.

"would love to. isn't it a 21 and over show tho?"

Rodrick didn't miss a beat, "u have a fake dont u?"

Shea smiled. Even though she was supposed to be replying to questions on the country club's social media sites, she searched the Friday night show and confirmed the location: Scotch Valley Club.

She replied, "lol trueee. doors open at 7 and it starts at 730."

"i can pick u up at 7? i hate waiting for doors to open. where do u live?"

She knew it was logical for him to need an address to pick her up, but him asking made her heart feel like it was going to explode, she got so excited.

Luckily, she knew how to sound nonchalant through text, "7368 eider drive in north plainview. i live in an apt complex with locked doors so u'll have to call me after u park."

It took him a few minutes to reply, so Shea imagined he was mapping the directions. She drummed her fingers against the desk, trying to calm her anxious breath. She pulled up the country club Facebook page, but her eyes kept flicking back to her phone.

Finally, he replied, "damn avril u live on the other side of the universe."

She smirked. "town, universe, what's the diff?"

"its too far from me."

She stared at his words for a solid three minutes before joking, "brb, moving."

"good :)"

Shea didn't know what to reply, so she didn't. But the conversation was enough to sustain her through the rest of her Thursday, and enough to make Friday feel like forever.

* * *

Shea lived in a two-bedroom apartment in North Plainview with her dad. After parents divorced when she was 9, her and her brother moved out of the house her dad could no longer afford on his construction wages, and into their new, smaller home. Shea got a room, her dad got a room, and her brother Bryan got the couch. After her brother left for the military, her dad filled the absence by dating. Even though the space in their apartment was so cramped, Shea felt like she and her dad hardly crossed paths. He was always working or out with his girlfriend; she was at school, work, or out with friends. She didn't mind the loneliness, but sometimes she wished he would offer more communication than misspelled texts and money for groceries.

As usual, her dad had already left for his girlfriend's house for the weekend by time she got home. Shea turned up her favorite This Band for Hire songs and took her time getting ready.

Shea was a minimal make-up girl. Since Shea's mom had left when she was still in elementary school, Priya taught her how to wear make-up. But without Priya's constant encouragement, she sometimes thought applying everything was too much of a hassle. Tonight, however, was a different story. She put on her best skinny jeans, combat boots, tank top, and leather jacket. She painstakingly applied concealer, eyeliner, and eyeshadow. When she stepped back at looked at herself in the mirror, she thought she didn't look like Shea Baker anymore. If Rodrick liked girls like Heather Hills, maybe he wouldn't mind the make-up? But Shea couldn't stand feeling fake, so she washed her face, and started again.

Shea had just finished her new minimal look when Rodrick called. Priya always advised waiting three rings not to seem eager, but Shea couldn't help herself.

"Hey, are you lost?"

"No, I'm here," he said, sounding unusually nervous. "But we have a problem."

Shea panicked. He had a flat. He had no money. He lost his fake. He decided he was still too in love with Heather or some mysterious ex she didn't know about to even consider dating someone as pathetic as Shea.

"What? Is it bad?"

He made a noise that Shea couldn't distinguish as yes or no. She decided to be optimistic, and said before she hung up, "I'll be down in a sec."

After one last glance in the bathroom mirror, Shea ran into her room. She grabbed her wallet and her keys, shut off all of the lights and the stereo, and ran down two flights of stairs.

The Plainview air was cool, which was a nice contrast to how hot it had been earlier in the day. Shea saw Rodrick leaning against the passenger side of a huge, white van with his band name inscribed on the side. Even though he had sounded anxious on the phone, he broke out in a smile when he saw her. Shea relaxed, and hoped she was wrong about him prematurely dumping her.

"Hey," she said, raising her hand to wave. "So what's the problem?"

Rodrick grimaced, and jammed his thumb behind him. Shea followed his finger, and noticed Greg and Rowley sitting in the second row of seats in the van, both smiling dumbly at her.

"Oh!" she breathed, slightly relieved. Her brain began wracking for ways to get rid of the boys. "Why are they here?"

"I told my mom I was going to a show in the city with a friend, and she thought it would be great for them to come along to see some local music," Rodrick said acidly. "Support the community, some shit like that."

"Okay," Shea nodded, digesting the information. "This isn't a big deal."

Rodrick looked surprised. "It's not?"

"No," she explained, "We'll drop them off at another show and pick them up when we're done. Come on; start driving, and I'll look for other shows on my phone."

But Rodrick didn't move. Shea persisted, "What? Do you not wanna go? We can reschedule if you need to babysit."

"N-no! I just," he stammered, "you're not mad?"

"It's a minor setback. But I've got a plan and it'll work." She smiled confidently. "Let's go, or we're gonna miss the show."

Rodrick grinned, and yanked open the passenger side door before running over to the driver side. Shea was surprised by how clean his van was: the floor was littered with old receipts and stunk of French fries, and the back looked like it had seen better days, but it seemed he had made an effort to clean up. Rodrick drove quickly but skillfully, which left Shea to scour nearby shows on her phone.

"What kind of music do you like?" Shea turned and asked the boys.

Rowley looked like he was thrilled at being addressed. "My favorite is Joshie!"

Shea faltered. "The… pop singer?" Rodrick sniggered at her confused tone; she elected to ignore him. "Didn't he just get arrested for doing cocaine?"

Rowley's face fell; Rodrick and Greg both laughed out loud.

"But Joshie says…" Rowley began, his lip quivering.

"Sell out to the man and spend all your money on hard drugs?" Shea finished. "Not happening. What else do you like?"

Greg was excited to have his turn to speak, "Rock music!"

It was clear to Shea that neither Greg nor Rowely listened to much music. She clarified, "Punk, alt, indie…?"

"Uhhh…" Greg trailed off.

Searching for shows in the city was not as easy as Shea had imagined it would be, but she did manage to find a few all-ages rock shows. Shea assumed that the boys were more excited about going to see a concert, rather than going to see a specific band, so she elected to pick something for them.

"Oh, here's something." Shea read aloud, "Pop punk cover band called Windy City Devils. I saw them a few years ago. They weren't bad. How does that sound?"

"Sure!" Greg shrugged. Rowley forced a smile, but it was clear he was still hurt by Shea's comments about Joshie.

"Where is it?" Rodrick asked.

"Starland," Shea replied. "About five blocks down from us. The garage is another three north of our show. So we can park, walk them down—"

"They don't need us to walk them," Rodrick said, annoyed.

"Dude, they don't know where they're going. Plus in the city, better safe than sorry," she argued, and Rodrick relented. "It won't take much time."

"Okay," he said, sighing.

The drive from Plainview into Chicago about thirty minutes, so it was pushing 7:30 by the time they got into the city. Greg and Rowley stared out their windows in awe of the lights and skyscrapers. Rodrick took an exit early into the city, leading onto the row of bars and concert venues called U-Street.

Shea had fond memories of U-Street. Even before she had a fake ID, she, Priya, and Sam would roam up and down the street, and wander into random all-ages shows to check out the music scene. Shea discovered This Band For Hire in the basement of The Black Squirrel, the same venue where she saw Loded Diper play. The band, led by a pink-haired singer named Ariel, blended the perfect amount of electronic, rock, and metal together. They had since been signed to a record label, but still loved playing local shows.

"Walk fast," Rodrick urged the boys once they had parked. Shea watched Rodrick push his hand between Rowley's shoulder blades, causing the round boy to stumble.

"Hey," Shea snapped, and the boys stopped. Rodrick didn't even flinch. "Be nice."

"Yeah, Rodrick!" Greg teased.

"Don't push it," Shea warned, and Greg frowned.

The group stepped quickly out of the garage and into the loud and bustling city streets. They turned south, Greg and Rowley in front, Shea and Rodrick behind. Shea was feeling a little bitter about how much of a jerk Rodrick could be to the kids—sure, they were annoying, but they didn't really know any better. She had an awkward thirteen-year-old phase, and she was sure Rodrick did too. Maybe he was just being a big brother. Maybe he was a big bully. Of course, she knew that he wouldn't change for her just because he liked her, so she resigned to keeping an eye on how he acted around other people, especially her.

The walk was made faster by the fact that no one spoke. It was like an obstacle course dodging lines and puddles of people on the sidewalks, but even the little ones knew to move around and keep going. When they passed the line for the This Band For Hire show, Rodrick squeezed her shoulder and smiled. Shea tried to relax and enjoy the rest of the evening—this was, after all, a date.

When they got to Starland Ballroom, the line had already disappeared inside. Rodrick reached into his back pocket, unearthed $20, and shoved it into Greg's palm. Greg flattened out the money, and shot a perplexed look at his brother.

"That should be enough to get you in and get you a soda or something, if you want it," Rodrick explained.

"But where do we go?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Inside," Rodrick said sarcastically.

Shea explained, "You'll see a box office. Tell them you want two tickets and they'll stamp your hands. It will be crowded so stay towards the back and go with the flow of the crowd. Don't push and don't fight. Okay?"

"Okay," Greg and Rowley said in unison.

Shea smiled kindly. She could almost hear Rodrick rolling his eyes. "Go ahead in. The show's probably starting soon. We'll come back for you when we're done. Call us if there's trouble."

"Will there be trouble?" Rowley squeaked.

"Not unless you see Joshie inside," she joked, and he pouted.

"We should go," Rodrick urged.

"Alright," Shea agreed. To Greg and Rowley, she said, "Have fun!"

Rodrick and Shea walked quickly back towards their show. Now that his brother and Rowley were gone, Rodrick kept shooting Shea small smiles when he thought she wasn't looking. Shea thought he was cute, but she couldn't get one thing off of her mind.

Even though she should have been flirting, Shea commented, "You should be nicer to your brother and his awkward friend."

Rodrick smirked. "I'm just messing with them. If I'm not a total dick they'd think something was up. Plus they kinda wormed their way into coming tonight, so I'm a little pissed."

Shea conceded, "Yeah, I'd probably be annoyed too."

"But they're gone!" Rodrick exclaimed. He wrapped his arm around Shea's shoulder. "And we're almost there."

"I'm gonna have a rum and coke," Shea said dreamily. It was her favorite drink.

"Make it a Captain, and I'm in," he agreed.

Even though they were officially 20 minutes behind schedule, a small line was still out the door of the venue. Rodrick and Shea marked the end of the line, which seemed to be moving fairly quickly. Rodrick pulled out his fake, and held his hand out for Shea's. Even though she had done this sort of thing dozens of times in the past with Priya and Sam, she found that she was nervous about the night. She chalked it up to first date jitters and handed Rodrick her ID.

He looked at the picture, and said, "You're the only person I know who doesn't look like total shit in their license."

Shea laughed, taken aback by the comment. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Rodrick grinned, but didn't reply. She felt her cheeks grow hot.

After another minute of waiting, it was their turn to greet the bouncer.

Shea knew from experience to play it cool. Rodrick handed over their fakes, while Shea said, "Hey."

The bouncer didn't say anything. He turned over the IDs and scanned them with his handheld device, and then stared at the result. The bouncer looked at both IDs again as if he was scrutinizing them. He read the names, double checked the photos, and flipped them over. Shea and Rodrick exchanged nervous looks; Rodrick grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

Meanwhile, inside the venue, Shea could hear the opener's bass thumping through the entrance. She was so excited to get inside, get a drink, and settle into a spot with Rodrick. Her mind was wandering onto his lips when she heard the bouncer say, "These are fake."

Shea's heart stopped. Her fake had always worked, so she wasn't prepared for this sort of situation.

Rodrick, though, narrowed his eyes in faux surprise. He argued, "I just had that done at the DMV."

"Who's DMV? Your buddy with a shitty printer?" the bouncer snorted, and pocketed the IDs.

"The state of Illinois. If you don't give that back, I'll call the cops," Rodrick threatened. His face was twisted with anger, and even Shea had to admit his act was very convincing.

But the bouncer wasn't buying it. "Go ahead and call. Y'all can have a nice chat at their station."

Shea knew unless she wanted the cops to come, they needed to try this from a different angle. She placed her hand on Rodrick's arm, giving him a gentle squeeze.

She said calmly and sweetly, "Okay, you're right. They're not real."

The bouncer gave them both a face that said, "I told you so."

Shea pulled her wallet from her back pocket, and slid out her real license and a twenty dollar bill. She pressed the money behind her license, and handed it to the bouncer.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," she said coyly, leaning forward. She could feel the cool night's air brush against her exposed chest, and hoped her cleavage was making an appearance for once. "We're just big fans of the band. I'm sure you, of all people, understand."

Shea thought she was cute enough to at least garner some sympathy. But the bouncer widened his eyes and looked like he was going to explode with anger.

"Get outta here!" he threw her license, and her money, towards her. Both fell to the ground. Shea scrambled to quickly pick both up, and before she could stand, Rodrick grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the venue. They ended up at the end of the building by an alley.

Shea could clearly feel how hot her face was. In an effort to distract herself, she replaced her money and her license in her wallet. After a moment, she muttered, "Sorry."

Rodrick shrugged, but his frown showed that he was disappointed. "S'okay. It was worth a shot."

"Yeah?"

"I would have let you in," he joked, and Shea let a small smile slide onto her lips.

"So now what?" she asked. She had only planned on coming to the show and going home, so an unplanned evening with a boy she barely knew made her feel like she didn't have control, which she hated. More than that, she was bitter that the bouncer had captured their fakes, and their potentially perfect evening was essentially vanquished. It seemed like the universe was conspiring to make sure she and Rodrick didn't get along.

While they brainstormed ideas of what to do next, Shea pulled out her phone and scrolled through nearby shows again. Just as she was about to suggest a basement metal show at a bar a block south, Rodrick said, excited, "Can you hear that?"

Shea could only hear the sounds of the city and her crushing disappointment. She asked, dumbfounded, "Hear what?"

Rodrick said urgently, "Come on!"

He darted down the alley, and Shea followed cautiously. She wasn't sure what could possibly be of interest in a dark alley; her mind was brewing up images from horror movies and crime shows when, all of a sudden, she heard it: This Band For Hire's opener.

Rodrick stopped next to a dumpster, which was right out of a back door into the venue. The lyrics were a little hard to hear, but the music shook through the brick building without interruption. Rodrick and Shea sat down, their backs against the wall. So the alley stunk of days old trash, and was dark, save for one flickering streetlight—it was almost like they were inside. Almost.

The opener's set ended soon after they got comfortable; Shea and Rodrick could hear the crowd inside buzzing with excitement. This Band For Hire had two openers, both with half hour sets. If she closed her eyes, she could picture the dark venue, squished with hundreds of leather-jacket wearing people, clutching clear cups of liquor. She could have been one of them.

"So tonight didn't turn out as planned," Shea gestured to the dumpster next to her date. "It could be worse."

"Don't say that!" Rodrick tutted. "You're tempting fate."

Shea rolled her eyes. "I don't have much use for fate."

Rodrick smirked. "This band had better be worth it."

"Oh, they are!" she said surely. "Didn't you listen to them before now?"

"I downloaded a few songs… it was alright."

"Just alright?!" Shea gasped, feigning horror. "I don't know, man. This might not work."

"That's a shame. I really like you."

Shea faltered. She couldn't help but smile. She tried to speak coolly, but her voice shook with excitement, "I take Ariel's music very seriously."

Just then, the crowd inside began to roar again. The crash of drums symbolized the start of the second opener. Shea and Rodrick shared a smile; Shea closed her eyes to try to focus on the music, and not on the way Rodrick watched her, or how kind he was, or how badly the dumpster smelled.

The second band was only alright, but to be fair, Shea was anxious for This Band For Hire to come on stage. When the music played, Shea and Rodrick didn't speak. The silence was both welcome and uncomfortable; Shea felt like she should be making conversation with her date, but as music addicts, she knew they both wanted to listen to the music. About twenty minutes into the set, she noticed Rodrick drumming his fingers on the ground to the drumbeat, keeping time, even though he'd never heard the songs before.

He caught her watching, and laughed, "What are you looking at?"

"I didn't know you knew how to mark time," she admitted. She realized that once she said it aloud, it sounded sort of condescending.

Rodrick picked up on that. He snapped, "How do you think I play drums?"

"In… the key of rock and roll?" she grinned.

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Shea."

Hearing him say her name made her shiver. She needed to get a grip. She scooted closer to Rodrick and reached for his hand, curling their fingers. He squeezed her hand, and she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

The set ended soon after, and the buzz of the crowd replaced the shrieking guitars. Rodrick sighed, "My butt hurts."

Shea barked a laugh. "Yeah, concrete isn't very forgiving. I wish we could get inside somehow. I never thought I'd say this, but I bet Greg and Rowley are having more fun than we are."

"I wouldn't say that," Rodrick sniffed.

"No?"

"Nah. They're probably in the back of the room, dancing like this." Rodrick swayed back and forth like grass in the wind. "They've never been to a show. They won't know better."

"They would never fight to the front," Shea agreed. "They'll learn, though. I started going to shows about that age."

"What was your first concert?"

Shea thought about it. "Some stupid band called Mangofix. I think? They came to my middle school and put on a free show."

Rodrick snorted. "That doesn't count."

"It so counts! It was live music. I pushed my way to the front and got to dance on stage."

He faked being impressed. "Wow, really?"

Shea punched his arm. "It was really rad for a 12-year-old. Not that you have any sense what cool is."

"I am the king of cool," Rodrick said smoothly. "Drummer of my own band, ladies lining up around the corner…"

"Yeah, right," Shea laughed. "Priya told me all about what a big dork you are."

"I think she meant badass."

Shea rolled her eyes. "Hey there, ego, what's up?"

Rodrick smiled. "I'm just tellin' it like it is."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Rodrick leaned closer to her. It was happening again—Shea couldn't breathe. She closed her eyes, and felt Rodrick's face coming closer to hers. His lips hovered on top of hers. She could feel his breath on her mouth; she couldn't move, she couldn't think.

They say when you fall in love, it feels like fireworks. Shea knew better than to think that she was in love with Rodrick Heffley, but when he pressed his lips against hers, she felt her toes tingle. She touched his cheek, and then buried her hand in his hair. He tightened his grip on her knee.

Then, they heard a crash, followed by shouting. Shea and Rodrick parted, and then froze.

"I'm taking my ten!" the male voice screamed. The sounds of the venue were louder, accompanied by clanging pots and pans.

"Hurry up!" a voice called back. "The break's almost over!"

Shea shrunk against the wall, her heart beating so fast it felt like it wasn't beating at all. She heard the sound of footsteps pound against the concrete, but she couldn't tell if they were coming or going. Rodrick crawled on his hands and knees to the end of the dumpster, and peeked around the corner. Like lightning struck him, he jumped onto his feet and motioned for Shea to come over.

"Quick!" he whispered.

Obediently, Shea stood and ran behind him. Her mind was still buzzing with nothingness, so listening to him was a simple enough task.

"Look!" he urged.

Shea poked her head around the side of the dumpster, and saw no sign of the cook. She did, however, see the back door left wide open.

"What!" she shrieked in a whisper.

Rodrick grinned devilishly. "Let's go," he said, and ran over to the door.

Shea followed close behind. Luckily, no one was monitoring the door, so she and Rodrick slipped inside the venue's kitchen. Wait and prep staff were too preoccupied cooking and picking up food to notice two strangers wandering through the kitchen. Shea held onto Rodrick's hand so tightly she thought he might lose circulation, but he never once complained about it. Just as they were about to reach the door into the venue, a waiter stopped them.

"What the hell are you doing back here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed.

Shea's eyes widened. She was bad at thinking up excuses on the spot. Rodrick, however, was not.

"I am so sorry," he gushed, and wrapped his arm around Shea's shoulder. "She's had too much to drink—thought this was the bathroom. I was just leading her back out."

The waiter raised his eyebrow, and looked to Shea for confirmation. On cue, she loosened her body, and slurred, "I-I'm sooo sorry. I just really need to go and I thought that—"

The waiter sighed, cutting her off, "Alright, fine, hurry up."

"Thank you," Rodrick said gratefully. He grabbed Shea's shoulders and pushed her through the doors and just like that, they were in the Scotch Valley Ballroom.

Just as Shea expected, the venue was packed full of people. Since the second opener had finished, the crowd squished forward into a giant mass, all hoping for the coveted spots at the stage. Shea knew that there was no way they would get to the front; they would be lucky to fit into the middle. But at least they were inside!

"Looks like our luck turned around," Shea beamed at her date.

Rodrick kissed the top of Shea's head; she felt like she was floating. He led them towards the back of the crowd, where people had spread out a little better. The back of the crowd in concerts was always a solid place to be: you had a decent view of the band without feeling strangers' hands all over your body. They slowly edged closer, but eventually stopped at a pocket of people who weren't moving forward.

"So," Rodrick said.

"So," Shea echoed. She paused to see if the stage was darkening, signaling the start of the new set, but there was nothing. "Is Greg your only brother?"

"What?" he reacted, surprised.

"Aren't these the kinds of things you're supposed to ask on first dates?" she countered. "Get-to-know-you type questions?"

Rodrick smirked. "No."

"No?"

"I have two brothers," he clarified. "Greg's 13 and Manny's 4."

"That's a huge age difference."

"My parents had me right after college and wanted to wait for the next. Manny was a surprise."

"So was I," Shea said, "Actually, I was a last-ditch attempt to save my parent's marriage."

"How'd that go?"

"Divorced when I was 9," she explained. "My mom lives in Maryland with her new husband and two kids."

Rodrick's face softened. "That sucks. Do you ever get to see her?"

Shea shrugged. "Once a year. Maybe twice depending on what my dad's doing for holidays."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm over it," Shea said, even though sometimes she didn't feel like she was. "I'm closest to my brother. He's way older—24. He's been in the military for a few years now."

"My dad thinks I should join the military."

"You in a uniform? Yeah, right."

"He doesn't think rock star is a realistic life goal."

She shrugged. "Keep working at it and you can do anything."

Rodrick smiled. Shea wasn't sure if him becoming a rock star was realistic, but the time was dream dashing was not now. Around them, the crowd's volume seemed to rise and fall like a wave, and there was no sign of This Band For Hire on stage.

"Are they late?" Shea wondered aloud.

"They should make an announcement," Rodrick muttered. He swiveled his head around, looking for someone from the venue. "This is the longest damn set up I've seen."

"How long's it been?" Shea pulled out her phone to check the time: almost 9. She noticed a text from Priya in the background ("I'm dying over here how's it going?") but elected to respond at the end of the night.

"Almost a half hour," a tall, tattooed girl next to them responded bitterly. "Twitter says they're here, sooo…"

The hum of the crowd was suddenly replaced by a roar, and then silence. Shea couldn't hear what was happening, but the volume of the yellers increased, and then was joined by other voices.

It happened so quickly, it was hard to say exactly what was going on. The crowd surged backwards, nearly knocking Shea onto her feet. She stumbled into a group of boys next to her, who kindly caught her. When Shea turned to apologize, they were already heading towards the exit.

She and Rodrick took big steps backwards as the crowd continued to scatter. It was hard to see who and how many people were fighting, but Shea watched as fists rose and fell like stars. Less than a minute later, the bouncer from the door and two other security guards came rushing towards the group, yelling in deep, booming voices.

"Holy shit," Rodrick said in a low whistle.

"What, you've never been in a street fight?" Shea joked.

He narrowed his eyes. "Hell no. My face is too pretty to get punched."

The security guards quickly got the group of drunk men under control. A third guard was joined by a Chicago city policeman; Shea swore she heard the guard speak into his walkie, "No, no, the crowd's too rowdy… Tell them to go…"

Shea pretended not to hear this, and waited patiently for security to remove the offending men. But it was like bad clockwork: as soon as the men were removed, another fight broke out. The guards came back, and more fists were flying.

It was nearly 9:30 by the time the venue had the crowd settled. A man in a suit took the stage and held his hands up, signaling for the crowd to quiet down. Shea could feel a worm wriggle in her stomach; she could feel the bad news before he spoke it.

"The show tonight is canceled!" he boomed. The crowd roared in protest, but he persisted, "The bar will remain open for the rest of the night, but This Band For Hire has left the building."

Disappointment settled in Shea's chest. She sighed, trying to shake the bitterness and bad feelings, but she was about ready to call it: the date was over. As much as Shea liked Rodrick, and spending time with him, she couldn't help but feel burned by how the night had turned out: she had her fake ID stolen, shared a kiss in a dark, smelly alley, and was no longer in the same building as her favorite band. She tried to ignore how bummed she felt, but once they left the club, she wanted nothing more than to go home and call Priya.

"Windy City Devils should be done soon; we can just head down there and hang out," Shea suggested.

"We've still got time," he disagreed. "I bet we could get into a show along the way. Wanna go?"

"Sure," she tried to sound enthusiastic, but Rodrick heard the sadness in her voice.

"You okay?" he asked, concerned.

Shea knew it was stupid to lie. In fact, that's one of the things she hated the most about romantic movies: why didn't women just tell the truth about how they were feeling? But she didn't want to disappoint Rodrick, or make him think he wasn't into her.

She lied, "Yeah, alright."

* * *

A block south was a metal show for a band called Peeped. The bar was dark and stunk of beer, but the cover was free. Comparatively, it was the best luck they had had all night. Shea chalked it up to a minor victory and resigned to ignore the large, drunken men who were crowding the dance floor.

The band was noisy—they played angrily and emphatically in a way that made Shea think they didn't actually know how to play their instruments. The frown on Rodrick's face confirmed her suspicions. Just as she was about to suggest they leave, one of the burlier drunk men wheeled around and puked all over Shea's shoes.

Rodrick reacted quickly. He pushed the man and shouted, "Hey!"

The man fell into a group of his friends, who thought the fact that their pal probably ruined Shea's favorite pair of boots was absolutely hysterical. Tears burned her eyes. She stormed towards the bar and asked, her voice shaking, "Where's your bathroom?"

The bartender took pity on her, and said kindly, "By the front."

Shea didn't wait for Rodrick. She stomped her way into the women's room. The bathroom was small and stunk of pee and cleaning product. Shea awkwardly lifted her leg and stuck her shoe in the sink. The smell of vomit made her gag, so she turned on the water, grabbed paper towels, and tried very hard not to think about what she was doing.

In another small bit of luck, her shoes weren't destroyed and everything washed off fairly quickly. Shea washed her hands about six times after cleaning her shoes, and then emerged from the bathroom. Rodrick was waiting for her outside of the bar. Her bitterness had evolved into anger and frustration; she was over this night.

Rodrick smiled sympathetically. He said, "If it makes you feel any better, they threw that guy out."

She rolled her eyes. "Loads."

His smile faded. She felt a little bad for snapping at him, but not bad enough to apologize.

"Third time's the charm," he said hopefully.

She shrugged, and pulled out her phone for the nearest show. Without telling him, Shea turned and began walking south.

* * *

Their last hope was in a bar two doors away from Starland. Her phone said all ages, so she was surprised to see a bouncer in thick, black sunglasses sitting out front.

"IDs," he demanded, holding out his hand.

Shea groaned. She was so not in the mood for lying or playing games anymore. She admitted, her voice crass, "Listen man, I'm not gonna bullshit you. We're not 21."

The bouncer tightened his lips, and then laughed. Shea exchanged a perplexed look with Rodrick.

"I know, Shea," the bouncer said, and removed his sunglasses. "How you been?"

It figured, Shea thought. The bouncer was a guy named John—her ex-boyfriend's older brother. She and Timmy had only dated for six months at the beginning of the year, but she had periodically stayed in touch with John for this purpose: he got her into shows.

"Oh!" she said, surprised. She felt her mood lighten a little, and she managed a smile. "I had no idea you worked here."

"I work up and down this street, wherever they need me," John explained, waving his hand back and forth.

"Wow, a working man," Shea joked.

John laughed. "You know me. So what are you two up to tonight?"

"We wanted go see This Band For Hire, but…"

John cut her off. "Yeah, I heard something like thirty people were arrested. That's crazy. And a shame. They're awesome live."

"Don't rub it in," Rodrick joked. Shea glanced at him and he cautiously turned his lips upward in a smile.

"Well hey, these guys aren't bad," John gestured to the bar entrance. "Been playing here for a few weeks on and off. Timmy didn't like them though. He's next door."

Shea was glad to hear her ex was not inside—another minor victory. "Are you gonna let us in?" she asked hopefully.

John opened his mouth to say what Shea could only assume was yes, when a lanky man wearing a clip-on name badge that said Seth approached John.

"You all good?" Seth asked John.

Nervous, John stuttered, "Uh, yeah, alright."

"Did you check them?" Seth asked. "You know kids have been breaking into shows all night. Don't wanna get in trouble with the cops."

"If they ever get out of Scotch Valley," Rodrick said, but the joke fell on deaf ears.

Shea felt all of the hope and happiness built inside her chest suddenly crumble. She pulled out her phone, and saw it was almost 10, which meant Greg and Rowley's show would be over shortly.

"You know what, it's fine," Shea said. Seth eyed her suspiciously, and John smiled sadly. "We've gotta get next door anyway. It was good seeing you John."

"Take care of yourself, kid," John called after her.

The Starland Ballroom was just as Shea remembered it: bright lights on stage, dark in the crowd, and a huge floor plan. Rodrick and Shea paid the $7 cover (which Rodrick unsuccessfully tried to haggle down, since the show had to be ending soon) and secured a spot in the back of the room, away from the edge of the crowd. Shea tried to pick out Greg or Rowley, but it was hard to spot them from the sea of dark t-shirts in front of her.

Rodrick squeezed Shea's shoulder, and told her, "I'll be right back."

Shea nodded to show she understood despite the noise, and he disappeared around the corner, into the restroom. She exhaled deeply, trying to push the sadness from inside her, but the bitter feeling lingered. This had undoubtedly been one of the worst nights of her life. Shea tried to focus on the positives—Rodrick was cute and he kissed her; he was funny and knew how to cheer her up; he was stubborn and unwilling to accept defeat—but somehow they seemed like molehills compared to the awful night she had just endured. All she wanted was a fun date with the boy she liked, but instead she got kicked out of a club, puked on, and ignored. She wanted to leave. Now.

Unfortunately, fate was not done playing with her. Even though John had warned her about him, Shea was still surprised to see her ex, Timmy, approaching her in his familiar black, patched jacket. Timmy had long chestnut hair and a lip ring; he also had a fierce temper and an insatiable need to act like a pompous douche. Shea hoped he would overlook her, but he didn't.

"Hey, you!" he said a little too cheerfully, practically shouting over the music. "You're all alone? Where's Priya?"

"Home," Shea said bluntly. "I'm here with someone."

Timmy pressed, "Sam?"

She wasn't sure why she hesitated in telling the truth. She wanted him to go away and leave her alone. But he wasn't moving, so she divulged, "A date."

Her ex laughed like he was surprised she could ever move on. "Yeah? How's that going?"

Shea tried to hold her tongue, but it came up like word vomit. "Awful. It's been one of the worst nights of my life."

Timmy was surprised to hear her reaction, and softened, "Sounds like a loser."

She felt better for having said it aloud, but the confession made her stomach hurt. She could feel tears begin to sting her eyes, so she turned her head to wipe them away. She turned her head to her right and saw Rodrick, looking like a hurt puppy dog. Timmy took his cue to leave and disappeared into the crowd.

"Rodrick, I didn't—" she began, sputtering words. Her face was hot with nerves and her stomach lurched with anxiety.

"No, I get it," he said sadly. He leaned against the wall and, as if Shea hadn't totally broken his heart, checked his phone for the time. "They've got one more song at most. I'll take you home after that."

"Rodrick," she repeated, her voice firmer. "I just—"

"It's okay," he insisted, "I'm over it."

Shea could almost physically feel her heart snapping in two. She felt awful, depressed, low… like the worst kind of person on the planet. She didn't know how she could make this up to him. And she wanted to, because she genuinely liked this boy. She wished she wasn't so quick to open her big, dumb mouth to her ex-boyfriend. Suddenly, the kiss outside the dumpster didn't seem so bad.

Shea excused herself and ran to the women's bathroom. Priya. Priya would know what to do. She locked herself in a stall and pulled out her phone, quickly punching in the number she knew by heart.

"You're home early!" Priya said gleefully. "How'd it go?"

Just like that, the dams burst. Shea sobbed, "It's going so badly."

"Oh, no." Priya asked, "What happened?"

Shea told her everything: from Greg and Rowley, to the dumpster kiss, to the vomit all over her boots, and to her confession to Timmy. At the end of her tale, she cried, "I really like him, but he thinks I hate him, and I don't know what to do."

Priya was a great friend because she didn't scold Shea for being so stupid and careless. Instead, she focused on a solution.

She suggested, "Make him listen to you. Tell him you may have had a bad night, but you're into him."

Shea was annoyed that the solution was so obvious. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and said pathetically, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," her friend's voice was soothing. "It'll be alright. It was just a miscommunication. If he likes you, he'll understand."

"I feel like an idiot," Shea sighed.

"Shit happens. Let me know how it goes, okay?"

"Okay." Shea took a deep breath, and felt some of the misery vanish. "I love you."

"Love you too. Talk later."

After she hung up, Shea took a few minutes to fix the make-up that had run while she was crying. She wiped most of it off, and was bummed by how plain her face looked. But she was less concerned with wowing Rodrick, and more concerned with being honest.

She found him right where she left him. Windy City Devils was playing their encore, and Rodrick was watching the stage mindlessly.

Even though she felt like running and hiding, Shea grabbed his hand. His fingers were warm to the touch, and he seemed surprised by her gesture. She said above the noise, "I really like you."

Rodrick forced a smile, and said, "Shea, you don't have to—"

It was her turn to cut him off. "Shut up, Gerard. This night might have sucked, but you didn't."

Rodrick's fake smile slowly turned real. He hesitated, unsure of the next move. Not thinking about the fact that she was in a room full of people who could turn around at any second, Shea cupped his face and kissed him hard. Windy City Devils played their final notes and the crowd began to roar in celebration; Rodrick wrapped his arms around her back and kissed back, just as passionately.

The crowd was still cheering when they parted. Rodrick pressed his forehead against Shea's, and she closed her eyes. For the first time all night, she felt at peace.

When the crowd quieted down, Shea and Rodrick escaped outside. They held hands and leaned against the brick wall of the Ballroom, passing the time by making jokes about how mediocre the few minutes of Windy City Devils had been. When Greg and Rowley emerged from the crowd, they were wide-eyed and giddy.

"How was it?" Shea asked.

"It was so cool!" Rowley shrieked.

Greg agreed, "Best night ever!"

"We'd better get going, then," Rodrick said, holding up his phone. "We've got an eleven o'clock curfew, and you know Mom will freak if we're late."

Greg and Rowley nodded obediently, and the foursome made the long trek back up towards the parking garage. Thankfully, the streets were less crowded so the walk was faster. Shea could hear the boys chattering about the best parts of the night—which songs they liked best, all of the cool people they met; it relaxed her a little to think that at least someone had a good time on their date, even if it wasn't her.

When they were in the car and on the way to Shea's, she couldn't help but ask, "Did you meet any girls?"

"Rowley got a phone number," Greg said bitterly, but his friend beamed with pride.

Rodrick laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "You're kidding me."

"She said I was cute!" Rowley exclaimed, and Rodrick kept laughing.

"Aw Greg, you'll meet a nice girl too," Shea said reassuringly.

Rodrick interjected, "Not until he gets over Holly Hills."

Greg's face reddened. "Hey, shut up!"

"The Hills sisters have something going for them, huh?" Shea teased. "Heather and Holly? What would you four have done on dates?"

This time, Rowley laughed, and the Heffley boys pouted. "You're funny, Shea," the redhead said.

With the car talking and laughing, the drive to Shea's took no time at all. Rodrick idled in front of her main door, procrastinating saying good night.

Shea saw the time, though, and said, "You've got ten minutes to get home. You guys are busted."

"Worth it," he said, and the backseat choired in agreement.

Shea and Rodrick exchanged smiles, saying nothing. The sound of the engine rumbling and Taking Back Sunday on the radio were the only noise. She felt her heart hurt a little at the thought of going inside, but she knew she had to.

"Okay," she said with finality, "I'm leaving now."

"Okay," Rodrick echoed. He leaned across the center console and kissed her. It was quick, but enough to make Shea's heart drop into her stomach. "Good night."

"Good night," she said quietly, and then stepped out of the car.

Rodrick watched her as she approached the main door and pulled out her keys. When he saw she had opened the door, he pulled away. As he was leaving, Shea swore she heard Rowley ask, "Is Shea your girlfriend?"

Girlfriend. Her stomach felt full of butterflies. The night hadn't ended so badly after all.

* * *

**A/N: Congrats for making it all the way through! :) I know that Jeff Kinney's said that Plainview is supposed to an "everywhere and nowhere" type of town, but I figured it wasn't big enough to have a local music scene, so I randomly picked Chicago. Based on a few of the books I'm about 90% sure Kinney imagined them outside of Baltimore, but I had already picked Chicago by the time I deduced that, so the Windy City it is! Of course, I don't live near Chicago, so when I wrote about U-Street I was actually imagining Washington D.C. Fun facts?**


	3. Teenagers

**A/N: Hey, hi, hello! I'm pleased to report that this chapter is a much more reasonable length! Let me know what you think! xo**

* * *

Shea hated mornings. Even though she had been waking up alone for as long as Bryan had been in the military and her dad had his early morning construction jobs, morning's silence still made her uneasy. It was like every day started by reminding her she was alone.

At least: alone physically. That was one of the reasons she felt so attached to her phone. When she checked her messages, Shea clearly saw that people loved her. Priya, who was spending the weekend on a last-minute family vacation at the beach and was already epically sunburned. Sam, who was (as per usual) hungover and swearing up and down that he wouldn't drink as much ever again. Her dad, who wrote a kind message about how he missed her and hoped she was being safe and having a good weekend. Accompanying those messages was a fairly new name that Shea loved seeing sprawled across her screen.

Even though it was closer to noon than it was daybreak, Rodrick wrote, "good morning!"

Shea knew he was just being kind by saying something so simple and typical, but kindness soothed the loneliness in her heart. She tried not to take other people's kindness for granted, especially in a world that dealt her such a lonely hand. She liked to think this is what made her such a loyal friend; such a hopeless romantic; such a perpetual optimist. Otherwise, she would drown in her own loneliness.

Shea replied, "moooooorning :)"

As predicted, Rodrick was late getting home last night. But just as his mother was about to tear into him, as should have been predicted, Rowley spilled the beans about exactly where they had been and what they had been doing.

"He had to say good night to his girlfriend!" Rodrick mimicked Rowley's nervous, squeaky voice over the phone.

Shea tried to empathize with Rodrick's annoyance, especially when he much rather would have been yelled at than have his mother involved in such a new part of his life, but she couldn't help but feel giddy about her title.

She managed to hide her enthusiasm when she asked, "What did your mom say?"

"I don't think she believed him," he explained, "She wanted to know why I didn't tell her, so I said I didn't know if it was gonna work, it was just a first date, we barely knew each other. By then Greg and Rowley had run upstairs so they couldn't back me up."

"She thinks I'm an invention to keep you from getting grounded?" Shea laughed.

She could hear the smile in Rodrick's voice, "Exactly. I'm, uh, pretty good at lying, so…"

"Did you get grounded?"

"No. She actually let me go and just said don't do it again. But I have a feeling she's gonna want some proof soon."

Shea didn't mind proving her own existence, but she wondered how his mother would react to meeting her: a short, awkward girl with a partially-shaved head, septum ring, belly ring, tattoo, and shady past. She wasn't typical, Mom-approved, girlfriend material. But this wasn't the 50s anymore, and girls were as many and varied as could be. Even though their house resembled a suburban dreamland, Shea hoped the Heffleys were a little more progressive and understanding than she anticipated.

"u remember how i said my mom would want proof?" Rodrick typed.

"yeah…"

"u wanna come to the pool with us today? lol"

Shea was normally not self-conscious, but meeting his parents in a tiny bikini made her stomach clench. On the other hand, if she unveiled the freak show she was right up front, sort of like ripping off a band-aid, their relationship could only improve.

After hesitating, she asked, "what time?"

"my parents are going over at 12 but i'm bringing the van so whenever you can get here i guess."

Her heart beat so hard in her chest she thought it might burst. Shea was bad at feelings, though, and joked, "I'll bring my skimpiest bikini and foulest words will your mother approve?"

"no but i will lol ;)"

Shea smirked and then dropped her phone on the bed next to her. _Well, _she figured, _it was now or never._

* * *

Despite physically getting out of bed at 11:30, Shea arrived at the Heffley house an hour later. She had picked out her blue polka dot bikini with a strapless top, combed her hair back so her shaved part was exposed, and wore a plaid button down to cover up her belly ring and tattoo. She figured she could scare his parents slowly, and then all at once.

Rodrick answered the door almost as soon as she knocked, accompanied by a small Goldendoodle who was yapping excitedly at the sight of new company. Rodrick quickly grabbed the dog's collar to keep him from jumping, but the little dog bounced beneath his grip.

"Sweetie, stop!" he snapped, but Sweetie whined and paced at Rodrick's feet.

Shea was an absolute sucker for animals, especially fuzzy dogs. Priya had two little Cocker Spaniels that slept on top of her whenever she stayed over. She never had any pets growing up, so she lived vicariously through other people's animal ownership.

She cupped Sweetie's head and furiously pet him. "That face!" she cooed, and Sweetie panted with excitement.

Rodrick released Sweetie once Shea crossed the threshold and closed the door; the dog happily ran laps around the house. Shea suddenly realized she had never seen Rodrick in the daylight—but to her relief, the sun brightened his features and lit his smile. His skin, pale in the nighttime, was a honey tan and contrasted against Shea's snow white complexion. Shea latched onto her boyfriend's torso and squeezed him tight, her anxiety soothed by his touch. Rodrick responded in kind, until she felt like he was crushing her organs.

"Okay, can't breathe," she wheezed.

Rodrick released her and smiled, abashed. "Hey."

She grinned, feeling her cheeks redden. "Hey."

Again, the daytime strangeness crept beneath Shea's skin. At night, she was stronger and more confident. But during the day, she struggled for words that should have come naturally. The sun made her feel exposed; Shea thrived in the moonlight.

"Should we go?" Shea asked. The weight of her pool bag cut into her shoulders, and she was suddenly very aware of everything: how she was standing, how exposed she was going to be in front of his parents, how dumb she felt about not thinking this situation more through.

"Not yet," Rodrick said, and fell onto the couch in front of the television.

It was strange to see the living room arranged to Mrs. Heffley's perfection, instead of Rodrick's party mode. The walls seemed livelier and much more proper without the Christmas lights strung across the ceiling, or the plastic red cups lining the fireplace mantle. The party was only a week ago, but it felt like it was in a different universe.

Before Shea could ask why not, Greg and Rowley came bounding down the stairs.

"I heard the door, was that…?" Greg asked hurriedly. His eyes found Shea, and his smile dimmed. "Oh, it's just you, Shea."

"Just me?" Shea scoffed. She felt most comfortable in sarcasm, so she continued, "You should be glad to see me! I'm great!"

Greg rolled his eyes, but Rowley grinned kindly. "I'm glad to see you, Shea."

She smirked. "Good. So who were you expecting?"

"Holly Hills," Rodrick said from the couch. His arms were propped behind him as an impromptu pillow, his eyes closed.

Greg's face reddened. "Yeah, Holly."

"Precious," Shea teased.

"She should be here any—"

The doorbell cut Greg short. He nearly leapt for the door, and opened it to reveal a small, pretty blonde haired girl with a kind smile. Shea thought Holly Hills looked exactly like the kind of girl Greg would be into: normal, beautiful, and safe. Of course, she had to have a personality lurking beneath those blonde waves, but something about how much like a girl she looked threatened Shea, and she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because she had spent her whole life in an alternative state of being, that when people were as they were expected—normal, by societal standards—she found it strange and unnerving.

"Holly! Hey, how's it going?" he said coolly, like he wasn't just panicking two seconds earlier. Shea thought she could hear Rodrick rolling his eyes.

"Good. Sorry I'm late, Heather was having a meltdown because her favorite sandal tore," Holly said acidly, sighing. "I swear, sometimes she's just too much."

"S'okay," Greg said. "Shea just got here too, so…"

"Oh!" Holly said apologetically, looking at Shea, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there, I'm…"

"Holly, Shea," Shea said, pointing at herself and then the new girl. "Not a big deal. It's good to meet you."

"You, too," the blonde girl smiled kindly. Shea felt her initial, admittedly irrational dislike for Holly begin to melt away, until the petite girl asked, "So, are you related to Greg, or…"

Rowley laughed uproariously. "They don't look anything alike! She's Rodrick's girlfriend."

Girlfriend. The word still rustled the butterflies in her stomach. Holly's face puckered with surprise, so Shea joked, "His performance at your sister's party really wooed me."

"Were you there?" Holly asked. "She invited everyone, and now thanks to Loded Diper, everyone is talking about it…"

Rodrick grunted, but Shea ignored him. "No, unfortunately Heather didn't think I was worthy enough to attend."

"If it makes you feel any better, she didn't want me there either," she empathized. "It was a total nightmare. I was going to go crazy if I had to listen to another week of her talking about dress code and the menu and decorations… ugh!"

Shea could see why Greg liked Holly, but wondered why Rodrick would ever like a girl like Heather Hills. Shea knew from working at the country club that Heather was beautiful, but her greedy, selfish attitude was not.

Rodrick rose from the couch, seemingly unaffected by the conversation at hand. He urged, "We should get going."

"Okay," the kids choired. Greg and Holly shared a bashful glance, and awkwardly stepped around the front door to see who would get out first. Rowley took their hesitation as an invitation, and stepped outside first, followed by the other two. Sweetie ran to the front door, barking excitedly after them. Shea grabbed his collar to stop him from running out, causing her bag to slump from her shoulder to the ground.

"Thanks for grabbing the dog," Rodrick yelled from the kitchen, where he was retrieving his own beach bag.

Shea shut the front door and released Sweetie, who immediately bolted into the kitchen. She thought it must be nice to be a dog: run around like a total maniac and still have people love you.

Rodrick reemerged and walked up to Shea. She thought he might kiss her, but instead he picked up her bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. Then, quickly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

"Are you sure?" Shea asked nervously. She knew the weight of her bag wasn't much, but felt bad that he took it from her.

"No problem," he said coolly.

Shea panicked for an answer, but her tongue seemed to know what to say. "What a gentleman!" she feigned admiration.

Rodrick smiled. "You don't know me that well, yet."

She teased, feeling a little more at ease, "Bad boys don't carry their girlfriends' bags."

He shrugged. "You're an exception."

"To what?"

"The bad boy code of honor."

Shea laughed. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," he said, "I like you."

Her stomach felt like worms were wriggling inside. "I like you too."

They stood, staring at each other. It was remarkable that Shea felt such a magnetic connection to a person this soon into a new relationship. She thought it was odd how he could calm her, and then make her so nervous, all at the same time. But that was the fun of a new relationship: the butterflies and the jittery heart and the ache that came from missing them after spending all day with them.

Rodrick finally said, breaking her trance, "Glad we established that."

"Me too." She walked towards the front door, careful to step around a jumping and yappy Sweetie. "Now let's go!"

* * *

The pool was teeming with screaming small children and exhausted looking parents. Since it was the last weekend before school resumed on Monday, it seemed like the entire town was packed into the small public pool. Shea grimaced at the sight of bodies bobbing in the pool water—she thought she could step across the heads to get from one side of the pool to the other. It made her miss her job at the country club, where she had free pool access. Of course, those privileges vanished with her quitting for school, so she would have to wait the whole school year before wading in an empty pool.

Greg, Rowley, and Holly ran ahead to the Heffley family, who were perched in the corner of the pool picnic area. Shea felt her heart begin to race; she was normally not a nervous person around new people, but she didn't want to make a bad impression on his parents.

Rodrick grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers. He said encouragingly, "Let's get this over with."

Shea tried to smile, but her mouth felt frozen.

The walk to his parents seemed to take forever. His mother, a fair woman with long, dark hair and big sunglasses, was holding a young boy with copper hair and talking with Greg and his friends. His dad, a man with a square face and light brown hair, was engrossed in a Civil War book, his feet propped up on the edge of the bench where his mother sat.

"Hey," Rodrick said plainly once they had approached the table. "We're here."

Shea thought her heart was going to stop, so she squeezed his hand.

"Hey, Rodrick," his mom said dismissively. When she looked up, though, her face lit up. "Oh, hello! You must be Rodrick's girlfriend. I'm Susan!"

Susan placed Manny on the ground, and the boy ran over to Greg, and followed them to the other side of the pool. Susan turned to Rodrick's dad, and said, "Frank, say hello to…"

"Shea," she answered, feeling a little relieved that his mother was as kind as she looked. "Shea Baker."

Susan's jaw dropped. She and Frank exchanged knowing looks before she exclaimed, "Marlee's girl?"

Shea raised her eyebrow. She hated it when people knew her, she didn't know them: she didn't know if they knew only bad things, good things, or a mix of both.

"Uh, yeah," she stammered.

Susan pat the empty spot on the bench next to her, and Shea cautiously sat down. Rodrick stood, his arms crossed, looking bored.

"I knew your mother," Susan explained, "We were really good friends when you and Rodrick were in elementary school. You used to come over to our house all the time when you were really little and you guys would play and laugh and…"

"Mom," Rodrick said sharply.

"Sorry!" she held up her hands. "It's just sort of funny, huh? I remember when your mother moved away. She used to worry so much about you and your brother. Gosh, it seems like forever ago. I remember the divorce, and when she called me about your hospital stay…"

"What?" Rodrick asked.

Shea's blood turned to ice. "Yeah," she said nervously, "I think I remember my mom talking about her friend Susan."

Susan smiled brightly. "Oh, good! How is she? We still keep in touch, but not that often anymore. She's in Maryland, right?"

"Right," Shea said. She relaxed a little now that the conversation was moving away from the one topic she absolutely did not want to discuss. "She works in the admissions office at Towson. She's got two boys now—six and four."

"Oh, admissions!" Susan said excitedly. "Are you gonna go to college there?"

Shea would be lying if she said she hadn't considered it, but she didn't think much about college. She liked to live life in the moment; she also didn't like to think about leaving her friends behind. "Uh, I'm not sure. I don't know what I wanna do with my life."

"You've got plenty of time," Rodrick's mom said reassuringly. She turned again to Frank, and said, "Frank, how funny, after all this time…"

"Yeah," Frank said. He pointed to his nose, and teased, "Although I don't remember the ring."

Shea's face reddened. "I got it on my sixteenth birthday. My belly's done, too," she blathered. "I think my dad was just glad it wasn't a tattoo. But, uh…" she trailed off.

"You're so like Marlee," Susan said. Frank smirked and went back to his book. "Do you want anything for lunch?"

Rodrick groaned. Susan stood, and walked around to the cooler on the other side of the bench. She wondered, "What?"

"I thought twenty questions was over with," he muttered.

Susan ignored him, "Shea, I've got hot dogs, hamburgers, chips…"

"I, uh," Shea's face burned. She'd just realized this hadn't come up in conversation, but she felt bad making his parents make special exceptions for her. "I don't eat meat."

Rodrick balked, "Not even bacon?"

"I don't like bacon," she said, embarrassed.

"But it's bacon," he argued, sitting in the spot next to her.

Shea shrugged. "Sorry."

"I have pasta salad," Susan said, pulling a Tupperware out of the cooler.

Frank asked, not looking up from his book, "Doesn't that have bacon in it?"

Rodrick smiled at Shea in an "I told you so" kind of look, but Susan said, "No, for once, I brought the bacon bits on the side. It's like fate knew you were coming, Shea."

"Or you couldn't find the bacon bits in time to add them to the salad," Frank said under his breath.

"What do you think, sweetie? Are you hungry?"

"Um, yeah," Shea said, even though she wasn't very hungry. "Thank you."

Susan dug a fork out of a nearby shopping bag and handed Shea the Tupperware. To Rodrick, she asked, "Hamburger, right?"

"Yeah, thanks."

While Susan assembled the hamburger, Shea could hear her muttering about calling her old friend Marlee. Shea made a mental note to beat her to that.

Even though Rodrick made a big show about being a punk rock bad boy, Shea thought that he was awfully suburban. He might have snapped at his mother, but he said thank you when his mom handed him his meal, and ate slowly and politely. He held Shea's hand when she was nervous, and joked with her when she wasn't. Suburban was not her usual type, but Shea had dated enough self-proclaimed bad boys for a lifetime.

Shea slowly began to relax once his mother had officially finished grilling her. When they were just sitting together, making conversation, she was surprised by how much she enjoyed herself. The Heffleys, perhaps a little eccentric, were a normal family who loved and cared about each other. Shea loved the camaraderie, and hoped she would fit into the picture.

"So how did you guys meet?" Frank asked once they had finished their food.

"Oh, yeah!" Susan exclaimed. "Good question."

Luckily, Shea had anticipated this question. She answered, "Through Ben. Ben's been telling me about his friend Rodrick for forever—"

Rodrick cut her off, "And Ben would never shut up about Shea."

Shea smiled. She imagined Ben nagging Rodrick about meeting his cute friend, the same way Ben had continually mentioned him to Shea.

"So we finally all hung out together and hit it off," she ended finally, leaving out the vodka, almost kiss, and cops.

"That's so nice," Susan cooed. "You don't go to Westmore, do you, Shea?"

She shook her head. "No, I haven't been since we moved."

"Right," his mother nodded knowingly. "Well, Plainview and Westmore aren't that far apart. And your schools do the senior Olympics at the end of the year."

Plainview and Westmore High were sister schools, so they usually did a few events together, including the Prom and senior Olympics. Shea had been looking forward to competing against Priya in a few events, but now she wondered what she could beat Rodrick at.

"I'm looking forward to kicking your butt at floor hockey," he teased her.

Shea rolled her eyes. "I guess we'll see in May."

* * *

When she got home that night, the first thing Shea did was dial her mother's cell phone.

It was almost eleven at night, which was, as Shea learned when his mother kindly but aggressively reminded him, Rodrick's curfew. They both smiled sadly at each other, and kissed for so long Shea almost lost her breath, but she knew she would see him again soon enough. The drive from his house to her apartment was almost 20 minutes, but missing him made it feel like hours.

As her mom's phone rang, Shea ran into her dad's bedroom and raided his bookshelf for photo albums. Her dad's room was the plainest in their dull apartment—no photos, no decorations… just a beige wall with a navy blue comforter and alarm clock from the 80s. Shea's mom got most of the photos—and most of the stuff—in the divorce ("so I can always look at you!" Marlee had said, but Shea thought her mom just liked winning), so she was glad to find a small album of Shea in the age range she was looking for: preschool.

She had just started flipping through photos of toddler Shea with thick, brunette bangs and a big, toothy grin when her mom answered, sounding far too awake for the time of night, "Hey, you! How's it going? I've missed you."

"Hey," Shea said calmly. She turned the page and her heart stopped: a much younger Susan stood next to Marlee, both smiling candidly at the camera. "Were you friends with a Susan Heffley?"

Her mother didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, Susan! We were really good friends! We used to do the PTA together. You and her oldest boy used to play together when you were really little… Oh, what was his name?"

"Rodrick," Shea supplied. She turned another page and saw four-year-old Shea in a flowery sundress standing next to a dark-haired boy in shorts and a soccer shirt. She pulled the photo from its case and read "Shea and Rodrick, 4 yrs". Her heart hammered in her chest and her ears rang. "Guess what?"

"What?" Marlee said eagerly. Even though she and her mother didn't talk that often, Shea always appreciated that her mother sounded so excited to hear what she had to say.

"Rodrick's my boyfriend," Shea said, smiling. She held the photo in her hands; the thought that she and Rodrick had a history, no matter how minor and how long ago, warmed her heart.

Marlee barked a laugh. "No way! Oh my god, what did Susan say? I have to call her."

"I think she was just surprised to see it was me," she explained, "She didn't recognize me at all."

"Well, you look a little different now than when you were four! Are she and Frank still together? And how old is Greg now?"

"Yes, and I think he's 13. She has another little boy, Manny, who's four."

Her mother guffawed. "Funny how things change. She always said after Greg no more kids. Guess that didn't happen."

Shea suddenly remembered all the promises her mother once made her—I'll call you once a day; you'll come visit me every other holiday; even though I'm a thousand miles away, it will be like I never left—and she grimaced.

"Yeah, funny."

"There should be photos in your dad's room," Marlee continued, unaware of Shea's sudden tone change. "Not many; I took most of them. But a few of you and little Ricky."

"Rodrick," she corrected.

"Right," her mom said dismissively. "Well, I'm glad to hear you're doing well, sweetie. I miss you."

"I miss you too," Shea said, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she knew they weren't true. She and her mother had a complicated relationship that she spent hours discussing in a therapist's office when she was a young teen. She now knew how to cope, but not quite how to forgive her for abandoning her when she needed her most.

"Well, it's getting late," Marlee said, faking a yawn. "I'll call you tomorrow, and we can really catch up, okay?"

Shea knew better than to get her hopes up for that. More likely, Shea would spend all day waiting for her phone to ring. When she got fed up and called her mom, Marlee would make excuses like, "Oh shoot, it's getting close to dinner… I'm out with the boys… Can I call you later? We'll talk then."

"Yeah, sure," Shea said instead. Sometimes keeping with the same song and dance was the most comfortable thing to do.

"Good night. Love you!"

"Night."

Shea dropped her phone on the bed. She tried to simultaneously drop the disappointed feeling the conversation gave her, but she couldn't shake it. She flipped another page in the photo album, and found a few more candid photos of her and Rodrick smiling, playing, or posing with their parents. She was relieved not to find anything embarrassing, like a bathtub photo.

Shea placed the photo of her and Rodrick on her dad's comforter and took a photo of it. The quality wasn't superb, but it was clear who the two people in the picture were. She sent it to Rodrick with the caption, "Look at these two cuties!"

Rodrick replied almost right away, "wow i was fucking adorable"

Shea rolled her eyes. "yeah what happened?"

"thems fightin words!"

She closed her eyes and flopped onto her back, her dad's mattress bouncing against her weight. As she lay, quiet, her anxiety slowly melted away. Even though she had only known him for a week, Rodrick seemed to have that effect on her. Priya would say it's because the relationship was new and exciting, and she liked having something to focus her attention on.

Shea typed, "I miss u dude."

He replied, "I miss u too 3"


	4. Somebody Told Me

**A/N: Big thank you to "Guest", who seriously left me THE nicest review ever. **

**Sorry for the random absence-I got married at the end of August and did the honeymoon and readjusting back to life thing! Fun stuff!**

* * *

Chapter Four: Somebody Told Me

It was barely a month into the new school year, but Shea was already over senior year.

"This is so dumb," Sam moaned, pressing his face into his palms. "I'm tired and my coffee's not working and I want to cry."

Shea pursed her lips, and tried to sound motivational. "We'll get through this. Just think, after today, there's only 165 days left."

Sam considered this, and then said, "Now I'm really gonna cry."

Shea laughed. The only saving grace of school so far was that she and Sam had two blocks together this quarter. Unlike Westmore, which was a traditional nine period a day school, Plainview ran a block schedule in quarters. Shea was glad to only have four classes a day for a few weeks out of the year, even if it meant longer periods; she was mostly glad she didn't have math this quarter.

Right as the morning bell rang, the government teacher strolled inside and said, his voice booming, "Everyone ready for an exciting day of civics? Today we'll be talking about state powers, and how Illinois operates…"

Shea tried to pay attention, but her mind wandered almost as soon as he began speaking. She turned to check on Sam, who had his head propped up with his hand, looking like a zombie. She could hear Priya chastising her in the back of her mind ("Pay attention and your grades won't be so bad!"), but Shea didn't let the imaginary voice guilt her.

Thankfully, she felt her pocket vibrate soon into the lesson. She stacked her books on the corner of her desk and pulled out her phone, placing it front of the pile.

"I would say good morning but its a school day soooo…" Rodrick texted.

Shea smirked. She brought her body closer to her desk and tightly grasp her pen, as if she was intensely focused on taking notes. She kept her left hand low and quickly, but skillfully, pressed buttons on her phone.

"I know what u mean… i miss u gerard!"

"we should make out after school"

Shea snorted. She glanced up to make sure her teacher didn't notice, and then replied, "lol as much as i want to i can't. I'm going to the movies tonight with sam and priya :("

"stop having friends and make out with me"

"while you're in class?"

"…..yes"

Shea was glad that Rodrick also did not pay much attention in class. He made for some interesting text message conversation (not all of it entirely appropriate for school; Shea was relieved that her phone automatically locked every time the screen dimmed). Texting was not her favorite way to grow in a relationship, but she knew she had to make do during the school year.

After a few moments of radio silence on Shea's end (she thought she might actually take notes to make her charade look convincing), Rodrick asked, "Ben says hes throwing a party tomorrow nite. wanna go?"

Shea glanced at Sam, and willed him to make eye contact with her. When he did, he got so startled he jumped in his seat.

"What?" he mouthed, his eyes narrowed.

Shea pointed to the corner of her notebook, and then scrawled, "Party Ben's tomorrow… yes?"

Sam broke out in a toothy grin, and gave a thumbs up.

"Sam and i are down yo!" Shea typed back to her boyfriend.

He replied quickly, "Good! His brothers gonna get real booze… can u say drunk?"

"I'm fluent in drunk!"

"my kinda lady"

Shea smiled at her phone. Just as she was about to type a message, she heard Sam hiss at her. He pushed his notebook to the edge of his desk. She read, "did you ask him about the bs yet?"

And just like that, her excitement about her conversation with Rodrick vanished.

Even though they went to two different high schools, gossip traveled like the plague… especially when it involved someone with a reputation like Rodrick Heffley. After Shea successfully interacted with his family, she and Rodrick decided to become Facebook official, much to 36 of her Facebook friends' delights (including her brother, who naturally threatened Rodrick's life in case her ever hurt her).

Of course, not everyone shared Shea's excitement about her new relationship. Most of her classmates—the athletes, the A-students, the anti-socials—seemed to know Rodrick from somewhere, and everyone wanted to give Shea their two cents on his character.

"Rodrick's an idiot," Jamie snarled in civics class. "I heard he got held back twice and he's still gonna flunk this year. Moron can barely spell his own name, let alone pass class. You should have heard his 100 years essay in seventh grade. Oh my god, just thinking about it makes me glad I switched schools!"

"He's such a dick," Emily eye-rolled in marketing. "Do you know how many times he tried to drunkenly get my number at parties? Like fucking relax; just because you're in some shitty band doesn't mean everyone wants to bang you."

"He would be okay if he wasn't such a liar," Nicole divulged in choir, "You remember Lindsay, right? She dated him for a few months in sophomore year and said he was sweet, but full of it. So just… beware."

Shea typically didn't put much stock into gossip or half-formed opinions. She had her own bad reputation she had been battling since middle school, so she didn't mind Rodrick's infamy, or her classmates' insatiable need to tell her how awful they thought he was. She knew he hadn't been held back; he just struggled in school. And yeah, he was rough around the edges, but he was also kind and caring. And she had noticed the lying, but they were all small things, so did it matter?

Shea did find it hard, though, to argue back with her classmates, especially when everyone was so dead set on her prematurely dumping his ass. So she shrugged after each opinion and said, "I guess I'll have to see for myself." That seemed to end the ranting and raving well enough.

Shea shook her head, and Sam frowned. She figured she could bring it up to Rodrick tomorrow night at the party. If she made it sound like a joke ("So, everyone thinks you're an asshole, huh?") maybe he would be inclined to tell her the truth about himself. She tried not to worry about it, but she also wondered what people at Westmore had been telling Rodrick about her. Sure, Rodrick had a bad reputation because he seemed like a bad guy; but Shea was the bad guy once upon a time, and that distinction, unfortunately, was everything.

* * *

For once, Rodrick was early. Shea told him seven, and he called her at 6:50.

"Hey, I'm outside," he said anxiously. "It's hot out. Can you let me in?"

"You're early," she said pointedly, brushing her bangs out of her face. She checked her reflection in her mirror, and frowned at her uneven eyeliner. "I'm not ready yet."

"I'll watch TV or something," he pleaded, "Pretty please?"

She sighed dramatically. "Fine. Just a minute."

"Who was that?" her dad, Scott, yelled from the living room, once she had hung up.

Shea moved quickly, taking big steps. She tried to ignore her father's bemused grin, but his smile was contagious.

"My boyfriend," she said brightly. "Be right back."

She felt like she flew down three flights of stairs. She found Rodrick waiting patiently on the other side of the building door, the setting sun painting the sky orange behind him.

"Hey," she greeted, pulling open the door.

"Hey," he echoed, and then kissed her on the cheek. "You look ready to me."

She pressed her hands to either side of her face. "Trust me, I'm not. But maybe it's good you're here early. My dad's home for once."

"What?" The color drained from Rodrick's face. He glanced down at his clothes—a Loded Diper shirt, jeans, and black Converse—before sheepishly asking, "Am I dad approved material?"

"I have a nose ring and met your mother," she argued. "You'll be alright."

Shea felt Rodrick close behind her as she bounded back up the stairs. She knew meeting her dad was a stressful and really last minute thing to spring on him, especially when he was dressed for a party, and not for impressing. But, like meeting his mother, he should just get it over with. That way, his relationship with her dad could only go up.

Besides, it was not often her dad voluntarily stayed home on the weekend. Normally, Scott spent his weekends working or with his girlfriend, who lived about an hour away with her annoying dogs that Shea hated. When he started dating his girlfriend, he promised Shea that he would still make time for her; she had to concede that once a month was definitely "some time".

She pushed on her apartment door and found everything just as she left it two minutes ago: her balding dad perched comfortably on their couch, staring in awe at some space show he had been watching all evening. He heard the extra body move into the room behind Shea, and turned his head.

"Rodrick, this is my dad," Shea gestured to her boyfriend, who limply raised his hand to wave. "Dad, this is Susan Heffley's oldest boy: Rodrick."

To her surprise, Scott stood and shook Rodrick's hand. "Oh, yeah, I remember you! Well, a much smaller version of you. How's your parents? And your brother?"

Rodrick wrung his hands together. "Uh, good. Greg's in middle school now and we have an even younger brother, Manny…"

Shea smiled and squeezed her boyfriend's shoulder while he was speaking, and disappeared back into the bathroom. She caught snippets of their conversation as she redid her eyeliner for the hundredth time, and was glad to hear it was going well. Thankfully, her dad had asked him about the band on his shirt, and Shea heard Rodrick's voice relax as he began telling him about their venture into the metal world. That got her dad talking about his favorite band of all time, AC/DC, and it all spiraled from there.

Shea capped her eyeliner about ten minutes later, and shoved her phone into her jacket pocket.

"Okay, I'm done torturing you two, we can go," Shea joked.

"You don't any different than you did before," Rodrick said boldly.

"I do, trust me," she smiled. "You ready?"

"Yeah." Rodrick peeled himself off the couch, and stood next to Shea. "It was good meeting you, sir."

"You too," Scott genuinely smiled, which eased Shea's nerves. "Next time you're around, I'll have to show you that Zeppelin concert I have on DVD. They're incredible live."

"Yeah, totally!" he said excitedly.

"Best friends for life," Shea teased. She bent down to kiss her dad on the cheek, and told him, "I'll be home late. Don't wait up."

"Are you drinking tonight?" he asked.

Shea's excitement quickly turned to annoyance. "Yeah, probably. Not a lot, I promise."

"Who's driving?"

"Sam," she said.

"Can he control himself?" her dad asked. It sounded like a joke, but it was a fair question, considering how much he drank.

"Surprisingly."

"Okay," Scott finally relented. "Be safe. And call me if you need a ride. I don't care if it's three in the morning and you're shit-faced, got it?"

"Okay," Shea said, softening. "See you."

Once they had gotten down the stairs and out the building, it was almost like Rodrick couldn't contain himself.

"Your dad is so cool!" he gushed, sounding like someone who'd just met his hero. "He's got awesome taste in music, and the way he just let you go to the party… my mom would kill me if she knew I was drinking!"

"Yeah, he's okay," Shea said dismissively. Rodrick opened the passenger side of his van for her, and she climbed in.

"Okay? I would love to have a parent like that! My mom is so neurotic and my dad…"

"They're around for you," she said bluntly. "They care about you. He's never home, so he knows he can't tell me not to go out."

Rodrick's smile quickly faded. He said somberly, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said, "You didn't know. And when he's here, he is pretty cool."

Her boyfriend smirked, and turned on the radio. To her delight, This Band For Hire started singing through the speakers.

"See, I knew you'd love them!" Shea said, grateful for the distraction from the awkward conversation.

Rodrick looked both ways before turning onto a main road back towards Plainview city, and then teased, "They're okay. Not my favorite."

Shea gasped. "I can't believe you would say that after all this time."

"I like listening to them because they remind me of you," he admitted, and Shea blushed.

She didn't know how to respond to his compliment. She thought randomly of the rumors she wanted to ask him about, but her stomach flopped when she thought of how to phrase it.

So she asked instead, "So, who is your favorite band?"

He scowled. "That's like asking me who my favorite child is. Can't be done."

"Your mom has a favorite child," she joked.

But Rodrick agreed, "Yeah, it's you."

"Stop!"

"No, I'm serious. She talks about you more than I do. It's a little embarrassing," he said seriously.

Shea laughed. "You're not for real."

"I am! Come over next week and you can witness it yourself."

She smirked. "Maybe I will."

Rodrick reached over the center console and intertwined their fingers together. He brought her hand up to his mouth, and pressed his lips against her hand.

"I like you," he said, lowering their hands.

Shea's chest tightened and her stomach fluttered. She said, her voice soft, "I like you too."

* * *

Shea shouldn't have been surprised, but Ben's giant house in the suburban wonderland of Plainview really did shock her.

"Wow, no wonder he could afford all those guitars," Shea whistled.

"Plainview just isn't very punk rock," Priya agreed solemnly.

People were milling loudly across all parts of Ben's house: Call of Duty, Cards Against Humanity, and other games were set up in the living room, drinking games in the basement, and Shea swore she smelled weed coming from the backyard. Ben seemed to have a compass built to find Rodrick, and he came bearing shots almost as soon as they arrived. Once the alcohol had stopped burning, Ben and Rodrick disappeared downstairs, leaving Priya, Sam, and Shea upstairs by the kitchen, which seemed to be the quietest space in the party.

"Speaking of punk rock," Sam began, "Where'd your boy toy go?"

Shea shrugged. "Who knows. I think he and Ben went in search of more shots."

"Or to blow each other."

Priya laughed, but Shea agreed, "Yeah, probably."

"That's something I never wanted to picture," Priya said, smiling. "Anyway, Shea, did you ever talk to Rodrick?"

"I was going to on the ride to your place but…" she trailed off, remembering the tense silence that followed their conversation about her dad. "I don't know. It's all so dumb. I should just let it go but it seems like everyone hates him and I kinda wanna know why. I mean, you didn't like him at first either, Priya."

"I'll admit, I was premature in my judgment," Priya said. "He's a nice guy, even if he comes off as a pompous ass."

Shea exhaled loudly, so her friend countered, "He makes you happy, and that makes me happy, so that's what's most important."

"She's got a point," Sam agreed. "And he's way better than Jimmy."

"Timmy," Shea corrected.

"Whatever. He was a loser."

Shea and Priya nodded in agreement, and then fell into silence. In the next room, excitement roared, followed by enthusiastic clapping. Shea could feel her conscious nagging at her to let the whole situation rot like it should, but she had a bad habit at picking at the worst in people. She wanted to understand why everyone thought Rodrick was so awful without them speaking condescendingly to her. But then, she wondered if Rodrick was having the same internal dilemma.

"Does anyone talk about me at Westmore?" Shea asked timidly.

Priya said firmly, "No. Not in years."

"Really?" she asked skeptically. "No one remembers middle school Shea?"

Her friend adopted a motherly tone, "No. I wouldn't worry about that."

Shea had a feeling Priya was lying just to make her relax. She forced a smile, and Priya squeezed her arm.

Priya and Sam began to talk about ghosts of boyfriends past ("Speaking of what a loser Timmy was, do you guys remember…"), while Shea's mind wandered. Shea had had years to cope with the hand she was dealt in life. Sometimes, she felt like she was perpetually searching for stability. With her mother a thousand miles away and her dad in and out of the apartment, she tried to find that stability in romantic relationships. This meant she fell hard and fast—every time. She had only had two serious relationships before Rodrick, both of which lasted no longer than six months, but each left her feeling emptier than before. She could hear her therapist reading a laundry list of reasons why this was not a healthy approach to her life, but Shea hadn't quite figured out why not.

Bitterness settled into her stomach. And just like that, she wanted a shot in one hand, and Rodrick's hand in the other.

As if on cue, a curvy Asian girl named Lindsay strolled into the kitchen. Shea knew Lindsay through Priya; she and Priya were good friends through middle school and the early part of high school. Even if they didn't hang out as much as they used to, Lindsay still treated everyone kindly. Sam noticed who it was, and broke out in a massive smile.

"Hey, kapatid na babae!" he shouted, and the girl smiled. "How've you been, love?"

Lindsay said warmly, "Kapatid na lalaki! Priya, Shea! You guys found the best part of the house."

"We like parties, but we don't like parties," Priya explained succinctly.

"I feel the same." Lindsay nodded. To Shea, she asked, "Where's the boyfriend?"

"We've already established this," Shea joked, "Blowing Ben."

Lindsay wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, oddly enough I can see that."

The group laughed. Once they'd settled, they exchanged stories about the first few weeks of Planview versus Westmore. Shea couldn't believe they were already seniors. She could feel in her gut that the year would fly by in retrospect; but for now, it seemed to be taking forever.

"It was good seeing you guys," Lindsay said kindly, "I came in here to find my ride, but clearly she's not here."

"Are you leaving already?" Sam asked.

She shook her head. "Not yet. Well, the hunt continues!"

They waved after Lindsay. Once she had left the room, Priya said, "I'm glad that wasn't awkward. I mean, of course it wouldn't be, but I was a little worried."

"Why would it be awkward?" Shea asked, dumbfounded.

Sam and Priya both looked at Shea like she had just asked what two plus two equaled.

"She's Rodrick's ex," Sam said in a harsh whisper.

Just like that, Shea's neurons seemed to connect. Of course! She remembered Nicole telling her that her friend Lindsay dated Rodrick… and she knew that Nicole and Lindsay were best friends. Why hadn't she connected the dots before?

"Oh!" Shea's eyes widened. "Ohhhhh. Oh. Oh my god."

"I mean, it was two years ago," Priya said, waving her hand. "Forever in high school years."

"Still," Shea insisted, "Sometimes exes can be weird around each other."

"Lindsay's too nice for that," Sam said, and the others murmured in agreement.

"You could probably talk to her about him," Priya suggested, "If you're comfortable with that."

Shea's heart started to race. "Uh, maybe. I don't know. Wouldn't that be weird?"

Priya shrugged. "Maybe. I don't think their break up was very traumatic… for her, at least."

Shea considered it. Talking to Lindsay would get her an outside perspective on the rumor situation. On the other hand, maybe she resented Rodrick, and would take the opportunity to persuade her to break up with her new boyfriend. Shea wasn't sure she was willing to take the risk. She liked Rodrick, and what they had.

"Maybe later," she said vaguely.

* * *

Later came faster than Shea expected. After they had exhausted talking in the kitchen, Shea, Priya, and Sam moved into the living room to play a few round of Cards Against Humanity. Most the group upstairs had immigrated downstairs for the drinking and partying games, but Lindsay, her friend Nicole, and a few other Westmore students remained. Shea was glad to have a distraction from her potential problem with Rodrick. She even won an epic hand: "What gets better with age?" "Robert Downey Jr." The girls in the group had no choice but to declare her victory.

"This has been fun, but I think I'm ready to split," Nicole said, exaggerating a yawn. The bangles on her wrist jingled as she turned to Lindsay and asked, "You ready?"

Lindsay shrugged, forcing a smile. "Yeah, sure."

"What time is it?" Sam wondered, pulling out his phone.

"After 11 already," Nicole answered. She said jokingly, "But I'm actually 80, not 18. So I'm ready for bed."

Priya nudged Shea as the girls said their goodbyes to the group. Shea knew it was now or never; without thinking, she jumped from her seat and said loudly, "Wait, Lindsay, can I talk to you?"

"Will it be quick?" she asked.

"Uh…" Shea stammered, feeling her face redden. "I don't… I'm not…"

"We can drive you home, Lindsay," Priya offered kindly.

"Yeah. Nothing like a favor for a katoto," Sam winked.

Lindsay noticeably loosened. She broke out in a wide smile, and said, "Yeah, sure."

She squeezed Nicole's arm, and the two girls hugged quickly. Shea's ears rang with nothingness, and she was so nervous she thought she might throw up.

The girls wandered through the kitchen and onto the back deck. The cool September air was welcome against the warmth of the living room, and Lindsay breathed deeply once they were outside.

"I love nights like this," she said, gesturing to the night sky. "Fall is my favorite season."

Shea barely glanced upwards, her body paralyzed with fear. Fall also happened to be Shea's favorite season, but her mind seemed to have switched off. It was an unfortunate side effect of fear.

"Yeah," she said blankly.

Lindsay smiled warmly, and sipped on the red cup she had been nursing all night. "So, what's on your mind?"

Shea took a deep breath, and spoke before she could think about it, "I wanted to talk to you about Rodrick."

Lindsay raised her eyebrow. "Oh?"

She rambled, "Sorry, yeah, I just, I didn't realize you two had dated until Priya told me. And I just… people have been saying some nasty shit about him at Plainview, and I guess I just wanted to know if he was worth wasting my time on."

Her friend laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. "Relax, Shea, it's fine. I get it. But I do want to preface everything I tell you by saying it's been, like, two years, and he's probably much different now. I mean, I know I am."

"I know," Shea sighed. "I'm sure that's the case, but people think he's a total piece of shit. I feel like I'm missing something because I don't see that at all."

"You're not," Lindsay said. She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, before finally saying, "Rodrick's a nice guy. He's got a rough surface, but deep down he's a total mush."

With those words, Shea felt her body relax and her stomach unclench. "Oh, good. Can I ask what happened with you guys?"

"Yeah. We had fun. We were only together for six months and at the end of it, it was clear he was way more into me than I was into him. It wasn't fair to him. I kept waiting to fall in love with him, but every time he said it, I felt like screaming. I broke up with him right before summer vacation started. Not my best move."

Shea frowned, imagining Rodrick's devastated face at the prospect of being alone for another summer. "I'm sorry."

Lindsay shrugged. "Like I said, it was two years ago. I'm over it. I hope he's over it. We've even had actual conversations in and out of class, so I didn't totally destroy him," she said darkly. When Shea nervously snickered, Lindsay asked, "Is he nice to you?"

She nodded vigorously. "Oh, yeah! Definitely. You're right, he's so sweet."

"Then why let all the crap they say bother you?"

Lindsay had a point; Shea wasn't sure why she cared what other people thought. She had spent years of her life genuinely not caring what her classmates thought of her; part of it was a defense mechanism, and part of it was confidence. Shea knew if she spent too much time worrying about pleasing others, she would never be happy. So why now? Why because of Rodrick?

Shea stammered, "I mean, I've only known him for a month, so maybe he was actually a huge jerk. And Nicole had said—"

"Nicole hated him."

She persisted, "Nicole said he lied to you a lot. And if that's true I'd have a problem with him."

Lindsay's smile faded. She took another long sip, and said, "Yeah, he's a liar. Usually it was about dumb stuff, but sometimes he'd come from nowhere with something really big. Like, one time, I was trying to make plans to hang out but he said he couldn't because he had a show with his band. So I was like, great, cool, where is it? I'd love to go. And he kept making excuses about how they sounded really rough, he didn't want anyone seeing them, blah, blah, blah… Well, that night, I'm out with Nicole, and we run into Ben at the movies. So I get confused and ask him when the show is, and Ben's like, uh, we haven't had a show since Halloween."

Shea gaped. "Oh my god, what happened?"

"I got so pissed. I called Rodrick and tried to talk to him, but blew me off. I threatened to end it and he unloaded all of this emotional junk onto me. He was afraid I didn't think he was cool enough," Lindsay retold, her eyes burning with the memory. "We argued, we made up, and that was that. But like, why would you lie about that? I'm dating you; of course I think you're cool!"

"Yeah," Shea sympathized. "Exactly. That's so weird."

"And, I don't know, maybe he could be kind of mean sometimes," Lindsay continued, the words flowing from her mouth like water from a faucet. "He would say a joke and not know he's being a dick. Or when we'd fight, he'd try too hard to win, which meant I almost always left feeling like a shit." She paused, but then covered her tracks, "He was kind of awkward. But like I said, it was two years ago. I'm sure it's much different now."

Shea's ears rang. Yes, maybe it was two years ago, but Shea didn't like the sound of the way he argued. She hated fighting with anyone, let alone boyfriends, and the thought of opening up to him and having her deepest intimacies thrown back in her face as weapons made her nauseous. People change, but how much?

Her apprehension about the conversation melted into sadness. New relationships meant a person portrayed the best possible version of themselves. But under the covers was the real person, the real Rodrick, and for some reason it made her sad to know he wasn't the perfect guy. Which was dumb, because she knew the perfect guy didn't exist. She thought Timmy was perfect, but his temper quickly made her reconsider. For the first time since they met, Shea wondered how she and Rodrick would break up.

"Rodrick was really sweet, though," Lindsay continued, unaware of Shea's inner musings. "He wasn't very good with notes or anything really creative, but it was always the little stuff. I must have a dozen mix CDs he made me. I can't listen to Breaking Benjamin anymore without thinking of him."

Shea thought of the way he kissed her hand in the car. But then she imagined his scowling face, and wondered what he would say to hurt her.

"I say fuck the rumors. As long as he makes you happy, stay with him," Lindsay concluded.

Shea feigned a smile. She wasn't sure what to think of the conversation. In the end, she would have to make her own opinion of the person she was dating. And speaking of… Shea couldn't help herself, thinking of the way Priya shut her down.

She said, "Yeah, thank you. Um, one more thing, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, not at all!"

"Do you ever hear people say stuff about me?"

Lindsay shook her head. "Priya would probably disembowel anyone before they could talk shit. And anyway, it's been years, Shea. You've proven you're different. Anyone who can't see that isn't worth your time."

Shea's heart warmed. That confirmation was a minor victory. "I hope so."

"I promise it's true." Lindsay took another sip, then placed her empty cup on the balcony railing.

"I guess I should go find my boyfriend then, huh?" Shea said jokingly. "I haven't seen him since we got here."

"No need to look far," Lindsay pointed over the railing. Shea peeked over the edge, and saw Rodrick lying in the grass next to Ben and Chris.

"Good eyes," she said, amused. She turned to her friend, and said softly, "And Lindsay… thanks for talking to me."

"No problem," the girl wrapped Shea in a tight hug. "Anytime."

* * *

"Is this what you guys have been doing all night?" Shea asked, standing above Rodrick.

The three boys choired, stretching out the one syllable, "Hey!"

Immediately, Ben lifted his arm to the sky, offering Shea his joint. "Want a hit?"

Shea scrunched her nose. "No, thanks. I'm not into smoking."

"Not anymore," Ben corrected, and Shea's body tensed.

She plopped onto the ground behind Rodrick's head. After a quick recap with Priya, she had decided to pretend like she had never had the conversation with Lindsay. It was hard to ignore the nagging fear that nipped at her stomach, but she pushed it down and focused on the positives. Like how Rodrick wriggled his body up, and rested his head in her lap.

"Hey goofy," Shea said, combing her fingers through his hair. "How are ya?"

"Sh-wasted," he slurred, and then laughed. "What's up with you?"

"Not much. We were playing Cards Against Humanity almost all night," she said.

"Shit, I love that game," Chris said.

"Yeah! I won a few rounds. Then I realized I hadn't seen you all night so…" she trailed off.

"It hasn't been that long," Rodrick insisted, "What time is it?"

"Almost midnight."

"Damn, okay, never mind," he muttered. "Aw, I'm sorry, dude."

"It's okay." She pressed her hands to either side of his face, and he closed his eyes and smiled. "What did you guys do all night?"

"Fuckin' Kings is a killer," Ben blathered, "Then we did some pong… then smokin' the bong." He and Chris laughed like it was the funniest thing they ever heard.

"Did you smoke?" Shea asked Rodrick.

He shook his head. "Nah. I don't like to after I've been drinking."

"He's a pussy," Ben accused.

Rodrick rolled his eyes. "Tell that to your killer hangover tomorrow."

Chris turned to Shea, and offered the joint. "Want some?"

"I already asked," Ben smacked his hand.

Chris shrugged and took another hit. "More for us," he said.

Shea waved the residual smoke away. Ever since she stopped smoking, she hated the stench of pot. It always sank into her clothes and hair, and lingered for days. The smell reminded her of ghosts of parties past, and people she thought were her friends. The thought tugged at her gut, but she could still hear Priya in her head, "Fake it 'til you make it."

"I can't believe it's almost midnight," Ben sighed. "Where did the night go?"

"That bottle of rum we split," Rodrick joked, and the group chuckled.

"Rum is my favorite," Shea agreed.

"Well you shoulda come downstairs earlier," Ben said.

"Hey, we can find some rum for my lady," Rodrick smacked his friend.

"You're so chivalrous," she teased.

"Bless you."

She snickered, and dragged her fingernails along his scalp. He melted in her hands.

"Alright, alright, we'll look." Ben sat up, and turned to Chris. "Get your ass up. Let's go."

Chris reluctantly pulled himself up, inhaling one last, long breath on the joint before flicking it into the yard.

"What do you like?" he asked Shea.

"Nothing too strong, thanks," she said gratefully. "You're the best!"

"No, I am!" Rodrick insisted, but the two had already disappeared inside.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, soaking in the night air. The moon was particularly bright, and reflected against the lake that was only a few dozen feet away from Ben's yard. The sounds of crickets and other peepers made the nighttime hypnotizing; Shea thought if she laid down, she might fall asleep.

"I missed you all night," Shea finally said, breaking the silence.

Rodrick opened his eyes, and smiled sadly. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I thought it'd only been an hour."

"You already said that."

"I did? Oh well. Did you have fun tonight?"

"Yeah, it was alright," Shea said. She didn't mean to sound dramatic, but Rodrick picked up on her tone.

"What's wrong?" he pried.

"Nothing," Shea insisted, but she was a bad liar.

"Come on," he said. He raised his hands to try to touch her face, but ended up sticking a finger in her nose. "Oops."

She smirked, and swatted his hand from her face. "Would you ever be mean to me?"

"Only with humor."

"Really?"

He shook his head. "I wouldn't mean to be… I don't know."

Shea could see his drunken brain trying to connect the dots. She decided to table the subject once and for all. After all, there was no use stressing about something she couldn't help.

"Okay," she said, brushing his hair from his face. "Can you kiss me?"

Rodrick obediently sat up. The blood must have rushed to his head, because he shook it and looked dazed.

"You okay?" she asked, concerned.

"Drunk spell. Now where were we?" he said coyly. He fell instead of leaned, and kissed her hard. She could taste the rum on his tongue, and the recognition made her smile.

"Wanna go upstairs?" he asked when they parted to breathe.

"Okay," she agreed, and Rodrick jumped up like lightning struck him and hollered in victory.

Shea laughed. The rumors had to be wrong. How could a person so dorky be so mean?


End file.
